


Heir of a dying day

by Azzy_Darling



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Forced Marriage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-02
Updated: 2013-04-02
Packaged: 2017-12-07 06:37:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 38,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/745436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azzy_Darling/pseuds/Azzy_Darling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maedhros is in love with Fingon, but because of his cousins age, they make a deal that a year in the future, they shall become lovers. But life is not kind to Maedhros and being born into a life of political intrigues and games gets him married off to someone else, forcing him to break his promise to Fingon. </p><p>You can also see this as an alternative speculation on Erestor's background.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hiding the tears in my eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Another old story, now this I really, really like. I know it's pretentious shit to say that, but I do. ^^ Well now to some explanation, there is no underage smut, but there is an underage crush/mutural intrest thing, but nothing really happens. There is a graphic rape scene though of same underage elf!! 
> 
> See this as an alternative background story for Erestor.
> 
> Also should mentioned that this story always makes me think of this tune, and the other way around http://youtu.be/xmBEroBDvVI
> 
> See the bottom notes for the original 05 authors notes.
> 
> Betaed by Lisbet.

_I try to laugh about it_   
_Cover it all up with lies_   
_I try and_   
_Laugh about it_   
_Hiding the tears in my eyes_   
_'Cause boys don't cry_   
_Boys don't cry_

_The Cure – Boys don’t cry_

________________________________________

 

Finwë had called for a family feast, ignoring his sons’ objections, and had gathered his children under the same roof. Fëanor came last, proving to be a magnificent sight as he rode into the courtyard with his family, one elfling on his saddle and another on his wife, Nerdanel’s. This would be the first time Amras and Amrod would see their kin. But absolutely not the first for Maedhros, Maglor, Celegorm &; Caranthir; and Curufin had met them once, even if he was on his way to become a young man. The house of Fëanor did not often attend family gatherings, but this time Finwë had insisted, and Fëanor given in. He had told his eldest son that he would bring home an addition to his household. Fingolfin’s eldest son was ready to leave home. He had an adventurous spirit, and so Fingolfin had gone to his father, and asked for advice. Finwë loved all his children, and had therefore decided that Fingon should go and spend some years in the house of Fëanor, perfecting his fascination of birds of prey into something practical, like hunting. Finwë had thought that this might improve the foul air between his sons, and so Fingolfin had reluctantly agreed, promising that he would decapitate his half brother if anything befell his child. And Fëanor had bee equally reluctant to having to feed one of his bastard brothers’ children. But in the end, Finwë had gotten his way, as always. And now Fëanor was here with his sons, to attend the feast and bring home Fingon.

As they dismounted from their horses, Fëanor grabbed his eldest son’s arm. Even if Maedhros was a young man, he was already well on his way to being both taller and broader than his father. And the giant red-haired elf looked upon his father with defiant grey-green eyes. “Father,” he said.

“Keep from Finarfin. I do not ask you, I command you,” Fëanor said with a hushed voice. “I will not have my father’s wrath upon me, because you cannot behave.”

“Understood, father,” Maedhros said, as he nodded slowly, his fiery red hair swaying softly with his movement.

Fëanor reluctantly let go of his son and turned to pick up Amras, while Maedhros took his horse’s reins and led it over toward the stable and his brothers, who had gathered there. Nerdanel came and stood beside her husband, clad in male garments, as she found it difficult to ride long distances in a gown. “They are only competing, my love,” she said softly. “It is but natural.”

Fëanor’s annoyed expression disappeared and he smiled at his wife. “I suppose you could be right, but they are adults now, and they cannot fight like two cocks every time they are in the same pen.”

“Maedhros is a wise child. You should have more trust in his word,” Nerdanel argued, as she kissed her husband on his cheek before she started to walk up to the main house, carrying the half-asleep Amrod. Fëanor followed with a very lively Amras who wanted to know the name of every elf they passed.  
____________________________

The feast was beautiful, and lasted for two days. By the end of the second day, Fëanor could see that his eldest sons had had it with Finarfin. Maedhros was sitting at a table drinking heavily with Maglor and Celegorm. But the ice hard grey-green eyes were darkened with anger and followed Finarfin wherever he went. Finarfin himself seemed pretty aggravated, but less drunk. Fëanor looked over at his father, knowing that things were about to get ugly. He knew this feeling his son had, for he too harboured it in his chest, to eliminate the competition. He knew that his wife opposed, but Fëanor could not help but be slightly proud of his sons, that they had inherited this much of his inner fire and fighting spirit. He found it healthy that they would take on the challenge that Finarfin clearly threw at them.

Fëanor’s line of thought was disrupted as his fourth son, Caranthir, came to his side, whispering in his ear. “Father, they will release an onslaught soon. I can feel it in my bones. I know my brothers.”

Fëanor nodded.

“But father…” Caranthir said with a slight accusation in his voice. “Only you can stop them.”

But Fëanor seemed to have lost interest in his sons’ actions. His eyes followed a fair blond lady who swept across the floor to greet his brother Finarfin with a courteous blush. “Tell me, Caranthir, who is that lady standing with my brother?”

“That is Lady Eärwen,” Caranthir said softly, “daughter of Olwë, of Aqualondë.”

“Ah,” Fëanor said with a slight smile. “So the fight is over her, is it not? Has the fair Teleri maid caught your brother’s eye?”

“I believe that is the truth, aye,” Caranthir said with a goofy expression.

“Then let the cocks fight. If it is about a female, then your brothers will not interfere. This is for Maedhros to deal with, and for the fair lady Eärwen to choose between the two,” Fëanor said. He was inwardly pleased that his son would have such exquisite taste in women, for the lady was indeed very beautiful, and seemed as if she were born to be the wife of royalty.

Then Eärwen left Finarfin’s side and minutes later came past where Maedhros was seated with his brothers. Fëanor watched as Maedhros spoke with the Teleri lady, clearly aggravated by something, and then the golden-haired lady suddenly fled the table. Maedhros leaned down and whispered something to Maglor, who nodded; both stood. Maedhros stomped outside and Maglor went to Finarfin.

Fëanor grinned before he turned and causally bushed past a distressed Caranthir.

___________________________________

The next morning the Fëanorian household assembled in the courtyard, ready to depart. Maedhros had been reluctant to go outside, knowing the scolding he would get from his mother, and the ice cold silence he would receive from his father, while he would most probably have to listen to a snickering Fingon the whole way home.

Stepping outside in the sunshine, he shut his eyes and groaned. He had a headache from the abyss. Feeling sorry for himself, he pulled the hood of his cloak up over his head to obscure his features and hide himself from the world. He was hung over like nothing else, and the fact that Finarfin had thrashed him badly only added to his headache in more than one way. Sighing, he saw Maglor standing out in the sun holding the reins of both their horses. Waiting. The whole courtyard seemed to hold their breath, as the tall hooded figure strode across the stones. Not daring to look up, Maedhros just went to take over the reins of his horse, and stood waiting for their father to mount. Nothing happened. Fëanor stalled for some reason, and Maedhros still did not look up, gazing fixedly at the toes of his black riding boots. He heard Fëanor ask Celegorm where Fingon was, and what kind of undisciplined child he was, keeping his uncle waiting in this heat. Celegorm argued that he saw Fingon earlier talking to Finwë and they both left to some unknown destination outside. Fëanor sighed and ordered Celegorm to seek his cousin, and bring him here. Maedhros heard Celegorm’s heavy boots ring across the stones as he ran to the house.

Maglor and Caranthir started some small talk; Maedhros still said nothing. Not until he felt a hand on his shoulder, and knowing by the feel and weight of it, it had to be his mother. “Look at me, child,” she said softly, and Amrod, wrapped around her leg, repeated “look at me, me.” Maedhros slowly lifted his head, and looked directly at his mother’s mortified expression.

“Mother...I...” he started, but just lowered his head again, looking at the ground, away from his mother.

“Look at me, Maedhros!” she commanded with a harsh voice that would have made Fëanor himself listen, even if he did not want to. And Maedhros lifted his head once more, looking at his mother as she pulled down the hood. She grabbed his chin hard and turned his head from side to side, to see the extent of the damage that her brother-in-law has done to her son. “You are a fool, Maedhros, and a drunken fool, I might add!” The tall red-haired elf closed his eyes and drew a shuddering breath.

“Yes mother,” he whispered. This was the worst that could happen. He was being told off in the middle of his grandfather’s courtyard like some snot-nosed elfling. Amras had fallen silent and did not torment his brother with the repeating game. He could sense that their mother was close to blowing up.

Nerdanel crossed her arms across her chest, looking very displeased. “What was that all about? Why did you have to get in a fight? At all times and places! You should know better! Did we not pay for the finest tutors to attend to your education? You should behave like gentleman, not like some barbarian!” When Maedhros just nodded and was about to repeat ‘yes mother,’ Nerdanel in all of her fiery red fury snapped and slapped her son across his already abused cheek. “Don’t ‘yes mother’ me! We were attending a feast in your grandfather Finwë’s honour, and what do you do to honour him? You pick a fight with his youngest son, over some stupid lass from Aqualondë. She is not even marriage material. Girls like that never are, son!” she raved.

Maedhros did nothing to defend his honour. He knew his mother was right, and he also knew better than to disrupt her in one of her fits. Maglor was the one to save him, as he stepped in and gently said, “Mother, I think he has had enough. Soon you will draw a crowd.” As Nerdanel looked up at her second-born son, she tried to control her anger, and nodded. “I think he knows it was a very foolish act, is that not right, big brother?” Maglor said as he looked to Maedhros, who nodded. Maglor smiled. Point proven!

Then they heard voices, and as they all looked up toward the large double doors to Finwë’s house, they saw Celegorm return with Fingon, Turgon and Fingolfin.  
As they reached the Fëanorians, Fingon stared at Maedhros. His nose had to be broken, and his lip cut. But it was hard to distinguish from the other bruises he sported. Fingon was shocked. Who would do such a thing?

Fëanor gave the reins of his horse to Caranthir, and walked over to Fingon and his family. He greeted Fingolfin first, then Fingon and Turgon. Both boys were staring starry-eyed at the handsome warrior who was like a dangerous electrical field, crowned by midnight black hair down to his waist, and steel grey eyes that seemed to measure everything and everyone up for size. Fëanor smiled and ruffled Fingon’s hair. “Is it true what I hear? That your mother is home, heavy with child?”

“Yes, uncle” Fingon said. Fingolfin cut in, smiling proudly, “The healer says the babe shall be born within this month.”

“Congratulations,” Fëanor said, smiling back, with a remarkably gentle, friendly smile. “Children are a blessing.”

Nerdanel resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her husband’s remark.

“Come now, young master Fingon, we should leave. We are already late,” Fëanor said kindly.

“A word with you, big brother,” Fingolfin said, stepping away from the crowd, leaving his sons to get Fingon’s things loaded onto a packing horse.

Fëanor came with his brother, who leaned in and whispered, “I would not have told you this, but since my son will reside with you for some years to come, then I thought you should know.” Fingolfin took a deep breath, this was apparently not easy for him to say. “Fingon is a good boy, never doubt his loyalty, but he is not as sharp as one might wish for.”

Fëanor blinked. “Are you saying your son is daft?”

“Nay, just different. I cannot put my finger on it,” Fingolfin admitted. “He will stay with those damned birds all day if one does not stop him. He seems to prefer falcons, to friends.”

Fëanor took his brothers hand, secretly gloating that his children perhaps were drunken brawlers, but they did at least know how to carry on a conversation with another elf. “Worry not, brother, my sons shall quickly lead young Fingon in the right direction.”

Fingolfin flinched, and Fëanor was amused. “Thank you,” Fingolfin said through gritted teeth. He regretted that he had ever agreed to this stupid arrangement, and now that his obnoxious big brother had this dirt on his family, gossip would no doubt run faster than a forest fire in August.

Stepping away from Fingolfin, Fëanor turned and looked directly into his eldest son’s face, giving him a displeased stare. He quickly made his way to his horse, and soon they were on their way.

 


	2. I’m breaking all the rules I didn’t make

_Did I say something true?_  
 _Oops, I didn’t know I couldn’t talk about sex_  
 _[I musta been crazy]_

_Did I have a point of view?_  
 _Oops, I didn’t know I couldn’t talk about you_  
 _[What was I thinking]?_

_I’m not your bitch don’t hang your shit on me._

_Madonna – Human Nature._

______________________________________________________________________

 

As the family slept, Maedhros stared at the flames. He couldn't sleep. His body was weary and exhausted. Looking over at their new addition to the family, he smiled, seeing Fingon with his arms wrapped around his pillow, as if he were seeking comfort in it. Other than this, he looked peaceful in his sleep. His bird had been locked in a crate; Fingon had been allowed to pick any bird of prey from Finwë’s roost, and keep as his. Maedhros was slightly jealous of this, he had never gotten presents like that from their grandfather, neither had any of his brothers. They had to be content with a friendly pat on the shoulder, or a wink. But a trained bird of prey! That was something else! Fingon, loved by all...even those without a heart, Maedhros thought to himself, with the bitter taste of childish jealousy rising in his mouth. Why did he and his brothers pay the price for Finwë finding himself another wife? Fëanor didn’t seem to bond too well with his stepmother, or the two children she bore, his half brothers. And that was really quite understandable to him, but what did all that maracas have to do with him and his brothers?

Feeling someone sit next to him he turned his head and had expected to find Maglor, but he stared right into his father’s uncompromising steel coloured eyes. “Father, why are you not sleeping?” he said softly, trying a little smile, but Fëanor's expression did not change. And then Maedhros got nervous; he knew how unhappy his father was with him, and just how naughty he had been. “I.. forgive me,” he whispered. “I know you won’t speak to me, but... I am really terribly sorry that I wronged you and embarrassed you by my foolish action.”

“Why did you not win?” Fëanor asked with a whisper. “How did that weakling, Finarfin, get the upper hand?”

“I don’t know, father,” Maedhros said, after a moment’s silence with them both starring into the flames of the dying fire. “She told me that she would marry Finarfin, and that he had said that I had lain with dogs, men and whores alike.”

“Ah” Fëanor said, poking the fire with a stick, so a cloud of tiny embers flew up in the silent warm night air. “Did you?”

Mortified, Maedhros whipped his head around, only to see his father’s smug grin. “No,” the red haired elf said, testing grounds for his forgiveness he added, “papa.”

Nodding slowly, Fëanor poked the fire once more. “Did you really fancy her? That Teleri lass?”

“I thought she was nice,” Maedhros admitted, “but I fear I am not a master in the art of wooing,” as he grinned and laughed mirthlessly.

“Maitimo,” Fëanor said almost tenderly, and Maedhros knitted his eyebrows, for seldom did his father use his mother’s chosen name, “You cause your mother grief, she cannot tolerate that you are such a lively young elf, with a healthy appetite for life and with zest,” Fëanor said.

Maedhros bit his lip. He had not intended on grieving his mother, or anybody.

“My father scolded me badly for your little adventure with Finarfin, and you heard your mother yourself.” He turned his head and looked at his first born son. “And so, my father told me that you should have responsibility, but it would be up to me to put you to good use, a good for nothing drunken princeling with a rotten attitude.” The raven haired elf smiled at his own words. “You have taken care of Celegorm and Curufin when they were younger, so I decided that you should be in charge of young master Fingon’s time at our house. Keep him busy, whenever he does not need to attend any other tutoring. And let that pompous fool Fingolfin see that we can take care of his son, and then my father might look upon us with milder eyes.”

“How can you ask this of me, papa?” Maedhros said, clearly shaken by his fathers words. “You should not show me this trust. I cannot rise to the challenge! I...I… have disappointed you so many times, father!”

“Son,” Fëanor said as he laid his hand on his son’s, “your only crime is youth. You are my first born son, my pride. You cannot fail me, you just have to find a way to mend the rift you made yourself.”

“I shall try,” Maedhros said with a meek voice.

“No, you will succeed, because you must. To try is to fail, son! To be determined is to prevail.”

“Yes, father” Maedhros said with a more sturdy voice, nodding. “I shall baby-sit Cousin Fingon, and I shall make you proud.”

“Good,” Fëanor said with a smile as he rose from the log next to Maedhros. “Make me proud, Maedhros. Don’t suffer the humiliation of a second beating,” he stated with a soft tone as he turned to make his way to lie down in the tangled mess that was Nerdanel and the twins on a bedroll.  
_____________________________________

  
Four months later it seemed like Fingon had blended almost perfectly into the Fëanorian household. There had been some early trouble with Fingon and Curufin. They did not take lightly to each other. But Fëanor put a stop to that, after he had listened to Nerdanel nag about those two bickering all the time. And so a strange truce came between them. Maedhros knew better, he could see that Curufin was scheming, but Fingon would hear nothing of it, poor happy Fingon, loved by almost all.

One afternoon Maedhros came to pick up Fingon at the bird pen. The large red haired elf leaned against the door frame. “So,” he said, “I thought we were going horseback riding this afternoon.”

Closing and locking the birds cage, Fingon turned around, blushing slightly. “Oh, I forgot, forgive me cousin Maedhros.”

“Forgiven, provided that you come with me now, that is. It is not healthy for a boy your age to stay so long with some birds instead of lasses your own age.” Maedhros grinned dirtily as Fingon blushed crimson. “Dear cousin Fingon, surely you must have noticed how they cast you longing looks across the room.”

“No, can’t say I have, cousin,” Fingon said, tucking a lock of wayward hair behind his ear in a nervous gesture.

Maedhros laughed softly. “Let us leave, the horses have been standing tied and ready for too long.”

They walked in silence on their way to the horses, turning a corner, Fingon took a step back, as Maedhros walked into a tanned slender elf, his chestnut hair tumbling down in lazy curls. The young elf was puzzled seeing his cousin’s behaviour. It seemed as if Maedhros was both bothered and flattered at the same time. “Ciryatan,” Maedhros said with a strangled tone. Looking up into the brown eyes of the other elf, Maedhros felt at loss. “I was on my way out with my cousin,” he said, and Fingon thought it sounded like an excuse for something else.

“I see,” Ciryatan said. Leaning against the wall in the narrow corridor. And with a warm smile, the tanned elf brushed some strands of red hair from Maedhros’ cheek. “Handsome lad, that cousin of yours,” Ciryatan whispered, “but not as handsome as you.”

Maedhros actually blushed, and Fingon was puzzled. Who was this elf? And why was his cousin suddenly acting like a squirming mass of nervousness? Maedhros who was always the rock.

Ciryatan smiled, and Maedhros cleared his throat. Then the tanned elf leaned in and kissed Maedhros on his cheek, and left. Fingon waited for his cousin to throw a fit and strike the other elf down, but nothing happened, Maedhros just straightened up and turned to Fingon and smiled, before turning around, walking down the corridor to where their horses were waiting.

_________________________________________

Standing behind a booth at the market, leaning up against a huge crate that from the smell of it was full of oranges, Maedhros looked up into the sky. Fingon had asked him question upon question about Ciryatan, and Maedhros had not known how to answer, because he simply didn’t know himself. He knew that his father too had lain with men, but somehow Maedhros had never thought it would be like this. Even if Ciryatan was fair, and he treated him with respect, they shared no tender kisses and softly spoken words, and Maedhros couldn't help but feel like meat on a stick. Was it supposed to feel like this? And just whom should he ask for advice? His mother would be mortified, and his father would be annoyed that he was this daft. Why was this so complicated?

Smiling as he saw a shooting star over his head, Maedhros arched his back and placed his hands behind him on the lid of the crate, letting his head fall backwards, looking directly up into the starlit sky. He did not see Ciryatan as he approached, until the tanned elf wrapped his arms around his waist, kissing Maedhros’ long, slender, pale neck. Maedhros chuckled. “You’re late,” he said.

“I know, forgive me,” Ciryatan whispered against the soft skin. “I feared you might have left.”

“I was about to,” Maedhros lied, closing his eyes in bliss as he felt Ciryatan’s eager hands push his tunic up, running across his warm skin. But as he felt the other elf try with one hand to unbuckle his belt, he froze. “No... We can’t, not here. Ciryatan! Someone might see.”

“Let them see,” Ciryatan mumbled, finally succeeding with his mission, pushing Maedhros’ pants down. And with a swift move turning him around, so he was leaning his upper body on the crate lid. “And what a vision it is,” Ciryatan whispered before he spit on his fingers as he pushed them inside Maedhros, loosening him for the upcoming intrusion. He leaned in over Maedhros’ back, whispering hotly in his ear, “the eldest son of Fëanor, all spread out, begging to be used, like a mare in heat.”

His words were far from kind, but a strange surge of lust welled up inside Maedhros, knowing he was on display for anyone who might chose to cross the market in Tirion by midnight, whimpering helplessly as Ciryatan relentlessly moved his fingers inside him. He did not feel like a vision, he felt humiliated and very naked. Until Ciryatan stopped his ministrations, and dropped his own pants. Maedhros could hear the belt buckle hit the stones, and closed his eyes shut, knowing what was to come.

Pain became pleasure, and soon Maedhros lost himself to the sensation of Ciryatan inside him, and a warm hand wrapped around his own erection, timing the strokes with the thrusts. And before he knew it, the first born son of Fëanor was reduced to a shivering mass of sweaty flesh, feeling Ciryatan bite down on his shoulder, before filling his insides with warm essence. And he remotely heard himself moan loudly as a warm white light engulfed his mind and body, and he too spent himself over the other elf’s hand.

They did not speak as they got dressed, nor on the way back to Fëanor’s house. This was what they had together, nothing more, nothing less.

______________________________________

  
Fingon and Lindir were close in age, and as strangers in the Fëanorian household it was normal that they would befriend each other. Fingon found immense relief in his conversations with the silver haired elf. They shared a link he wished he had with his cousins. Curufin seemed to loathe him, Caranthir and Celegorm were friendly, but seemed to side with their younger brother. Maglor was a mystic aloof elf, whom Fingon only seldom saw, but his voice was always warm and his smiles genuine. And then there was Maedhros, the source of much confusion. He simply didn’t understand his cousin. Some days he seemed like he was his best friend, and the next day he would avoid him. Fingon didn’t understand the reason for this strange behaviour. He found the tall red haired elf strikingly beautiful. Lindir had laughed at him many times, when he talked about what he and Maedhros had been doing that day, and in the end Lindir had shaken his head in amusement so his long silver braid swung back and forth. “You are in love, dear Fingon, plain and simple.” Fingon had been struck, his heart had beat faster and he had wet his lips nervously. He had argued that he could not have fallen for Maedhros, one he was his cousin, two he was male, three he was his mentor. Surely Lindir must have read the signs wrong! But inside, behind all bickering and verbal argument, he knew Lindir was right. He harboured feelings that extended longer than one should towards one’s cousin.

He and Lindir were seated outside a tavern in the market basking in the midday sun, as Fingon suddenly noticed the tanned elf he had seen Maedhros with. “There he is, Lindir, look!” he whispered with urgency, elbowing his friend.

Ciryatan walked past the two young elves, not even giving them a recognising nod. He and his blond friend, an elf Fingon had seen before in the Fëanorian court, just strode past them.

“I thought so,” Lindir said flatly.

“Why do you say that?” Fingon asked, looking at Lindir, as if he were trying to read the answer in his friend’s face.

“I overheard a conversation between him and his friend,” Lindir said with a weak blush. “I know my mama always told me not to eavesdrop, but sometimes it ‘does’ come in handy.” Fingon said nothing, he just scooted closer to Lindir, to hear what he had to say. “They were talking about a princeling, I actually assumed it would be young master Caranthir, but I was wrong, it seems,” Lindir said.

“Well,” Lindir continued, and looked at Fingon with his pale blue eyes, “that tanned elf, he spoke of this foolish, love-sick princeling... ack the rest is not interesting,” Lindir said, avoiding Fingon’s piercing gaze. “But I know that he thinks he owns his princeling, so he plans on bringing the other elf to a late night meeting as well, so they could share.” Lindir’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Surely that wanton princeling would not mind, were his exact words.”

“I have to find Maedhros,” Fingon stated as he rose. “He should learn of this.”

“I think he already knows,” Lindir said dryly.

“Still!” Fingon exclaimed appalled by the sheer prospect.

“If you do, then you’d better tell him why you care, or he will think you are meddling in his affairs out of viciousness,” Lindir said, smiling as he saw Fingon bite his lip.

Fingon nodded before he ran across the market place, heading towards his uncle’s house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 05 AN: This story is made for Marja, who asked for a Maedhros/Fingon fic, and that she shall have! – The story of the made up elf, Ciryatan! Well, I needed a twat, and what better way to do this than to type in some assholes name in an elvish name generator? So I typed in an ex bf, whom I happen to have a kid with, and who is an utter and completely fucktard, actually I typed in D***e Dingledick, and got Elrohir Ciryatan, but I just couldn't smother Elrohir’s name so, he seems like such a nice little elfie. So Ciryatan it is! – I’m so mature aren’t I? *Snicker* - oh extra note, I know that the Silmarillion says that Formenos was build by Fëanor and his sons, so that they could live there with Finwë. But.. I just stated in this fic, for the bloody fun of it that Formenos is already built, and that it is where Finwë already dwells, in case somebody doesn’t understand why they camp over night to get home from Finwë to their own house.


	3. I can't shake the thought of you

_I'm no angel, but please don't think that I won't try and try_  
 _I'm no angel, but does that mean that I can't live my life_  
 _I'm no angel, but please don't think that I can't cry_  
 _I'm no angel, but does that mean that I won't fly_  
 _If you tell me that I can't, I will, I will, I'll try all night_

_Dido – I’m no angel_

__________________________________________________________________________

 

Fingon had tried to find his cousin, and had failed. Sitting down next to a barrel full of drainage water from the roof of the smithy, the young elf slammed his fist down into the dirt between his feet. Lindir had been right, he should have confessed his interest long before this, then Maedhros would most likely never have been in this mess. A little voice in the back in his head argued that he was wrong, that this was all one big mistake, and that he should just let his cousin do as he pleased, and go back to the tavern to Lindir in the sun, and watch the pretty girls walk by, whispering and giggling.

Just as he stood, he saw Maglor walk past him together with a girl he knew worked in Fëanor’s household. “Cousin Maglor!” Fingon said out loud as he rose to his feet, sprinting after the two elves, “Cousin!” he called louder, “wait!”

Maglor stopped and turned, smiling as he saw Fingon come running, “Ah, Cousin Fingon, I did not know you were this eager to join the daily grocery shopping.”

Fingon just smiled and bowed slightly to the girl. “I was not here to shop, cousin. I was searching for your brother.” He looked up at the towering elf that was Maglor. “Would you know where cousin Maedhros is this afternoon? I have searched everywhere, and he seems to have disappeared.”

Maglor chuckled softly. “He does that sometimes, my dear big brother.” Leaning in, he whispered to Fingon, “I bet you can find him on the hills by shore, where the heather stands thick.”

Fingon nodded eagerly, and flashed a smile at Maglor, knowing he had just received a very intimate piece of information from his cousin. “I shall be on my way then,” he said, brushing past Maglor and sprinting across the stones in his soft brown leather boots.

____________________________________

  
Gasping for breath, he found the place that Maglor had talked about. Shielding the sun from his eyes with his hand, he could see a pair of knees in black pants sticking up from the heather. Walking there slowly he mentally prepared himself for talking with his cousin, but the thoughts still reeled in his head like chaotic butterflies, and Fingon had no idea what impact these words once spoke could have on his life.

Half asleep, Maedhros felt another presence, and slowly opened his eyes. Seeing his young cousin Fingon certainly surprised him. “Cousin Fingon,” he said, smiling, “how did you find me?”

Fingon returned the smile, and flopped ungracefully into the thick down of plants. “I have my sources,” he said.

“That source should not happen to be your dark haired, nose-picking cousin Maglor, should it?” Maedhros snickered. He crossed his arms under his head, so he could lie down and look up at Fingon at the same time.

“Mayhap,” Fingon said with a sneaky little smile.

“You have obviously gone through a great deal to find me this afternoon, so what did you want with me?” Maedhros said, sobering up a little, looking seriously at his younger cousin.

“I... Lindir.. heard, I mean...” Fingon stuttered, this was a lot harder than he had originally thought, “that elf whom you have been seeing.. he said some mean things about you.”

Maedhros smiled and propped himself up on his elbow, watching his cousin intensely. “Does he now?” Maedhros said softly. “It saddens me, but does not surprise me that he should think badly of me.”

Fingon slowly started to tell Maedhros what he had heard, and what Lindir had said. Maedhros smiled as he listened, but the smile never reached his eyes. Fingon could see the hurt in the green-grey eyes. At the end of his story, he noticed a little tick by Maedhros’ corner of his mouth. “Forgive me for bringing such ill tidings, cousin, but I was afraid you would meet with him again tonight.”

Maedhros sat up and wrapped his arms around his legs, resting his head on his knees, and stared off into the horizon, in silence.

“Cousin?” Fingon said scooting closer, seating himself next to Maedhros on the hill. Seeing Maedhros’ shoulders shiver, he wrapped an arm around them, and whispered, “Are you crying?”

Maedhros nodded slowly, turning his head from Fingon.

“Don’t, he is not worth it,” Fingon offered softly.

“Did you spy on me, cousin?” Maedhros whispered with a barely audible voice.

“No,” Fingon whispered back. “I wish I had, then I could have warned you sooner, instead of breaking your heart.”

“You didn’t break my heart,” Maedhros whispered and sniffled. He turned his head slowly to look at Fingon, wiping his face on his sleeve first.

Fingon just watched his cousin’s teary eyes, and before he knew it he reached up to wipe a tear away. “I...I...” Fingon said, feeling the confession of his own selfish love on the tip of his tongue. But the words would not form. Staring cross-eyed at his cousin’s full lips, wet from the tears that had run over them, he did something desperate. He shifted his weight onto his arm, and leaned in and kissed them. Feeling those moist warm lips against his made his heart flutter madly, and he vaguely wondered if love was some sort of temporary insanity.

Maedhros snaked an arm around Fingon’s waist and pulled him closer, feeling his cousin tremble as they slowly deepened the kiss, until it suddenly was a desperate battle of dominion.

Ending the kiss, they both just stared at each other, until Maedhros regained the use of his voice. “Why did you do that?” he croaked, visibly shaken from the act, but still with his arm in an iron grip around Fingon’s waist.

“Because...” Fingon suddenly felt nervous. He had just assumed that the attraction was mutual, how could it not be? After all, Maedhros had said he was his favourite cousin, and on many occasions called him fair and valiant. But now Fingon found he could not read the expression on his older cousin’s face. “Because I thought that you liked me as much as I like you,” he finally offered lamely.

“Like or lust, young cousin Fingon,” Maedhros said with a hard tone. “’Tis a dangerous game you play.”

“Both!” Fingon blurted out and then blushed. Then drawing up his courage, he looked Maedhros directly in the eyes. His cousin might be the son of Fëanor, but he too was of that bloodline, and he was not raised to back down so easily. “I think I am in love with you,” he said softly, watching as Maedhros’ facial expression changed from annoyed, to stunned, to a little smile.

“You have fallen in love with me, fair cousin Fingon?” Maedhros said sounding slightly amused.

“Aye” Fingon whispered, smiling as he saw Maedhros mellow.

“It is wrong, cousin. You should not waste your heart on me. Find yourself a pretty lass and dally with her,” Maedhros said seriously, but reached out and placed his hand on Fingon’s cheek, running his thumb over his cousin’s soft lips.

“I don’t want a pretty lass,” Fingon said firmly. “I want you. I care not if the world should cave in over my head for my wrongdoing, I cannot betray my heart.”

“You are either very brave, or very wicked,” Maedhros said, finally letting go of Fingon’s waist.

He was being let down, gently, but still! Tears sprang to the young elf’s eyes, and with a voice full of disappointment, he whispered “I should go.”

He made a move to stand, but his red haired cousin grabbed his wrist. “Stay,” Maedhros said with an unreadable expression, and Fingon sat again.

Staring into Fingon’s eyes, Maedhros tried to read the other elf’s mind. He saw nothing but awe and devotion in the deep pools of blue. Telling himself he was wrong, he leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his cousin’s lush lips. Fingon could have died from happiness as his cousin kissed him. He needed no words to know that he was not alone; Maedhros wanted him, as he wanted his elder cousin. And the young elf wrapped his arms around Maedhros’ neck, pulling them both down in the heather. He felt his heart racing, with Maedhros’ heavy body upon his, their passion building as the battle of their tongues grew fiercer.

Maedhros whimpered pitifully into Fingon’s mouth, as he felt the youth run his hand across his groin, coaxing his growing erection till it was painful. “No,” he half whispered, half moaned. “I will not bed you.”

“No?” Fingon whispered back, slowly removing his hand from Maedhros’ groin.

Maedhros pushed himself up on his arms, so he looked directly down into Fingon’s face; his red hair dangled across the fair skin of his cousin, and tickled his ears. “No, not yet,” Maedhros said softly. Seeing his cousin’s questioning glare, Maedhros lowered himself enough to kiss him tenderly on the lips. “You could steal my heart, cousin,” he whispered, “and I will not surrender this easily.”

“You are afraid?” Fingon asked, hooking a leg over Maedhros’.

“Yes,” Maedhros whispered. “Aren’t you? You should be.”

Fingon nodded a little, and smiled sadly. He wanted to stand and scream his love for Maedhros out over the rooftops, but he knew that even if the Valar was merciful, the people of Tirion were not. And they would have to hide in shadows forever.

“In a year, on this date,” Maedhros whispered, “meet me here in the heather, and I will be yours, should you want me still.”

“That is a long time to wait for another kiss,” Fingon said with a slight pout.

Maedhros nodded and smiled devilishly. “The next time we lie here, you shall have more than kisses from my lips.”

Fingon sucked in his breath, seeing the unpolished lust that shone from his cousin’s eyes. And he blushed to crimson. “Oh I hope so,” Fingon managed to murmur.

On the walk home, they talked and laughed. Fingon couldn't wait to tell Lindir about this. Never before had he gotten such an indecent proposal, not even in his hot, troubled dreams at night. And the look in Maedhros’ eyes told him he was dead serious. A year, he could wait a year. After all, he had never tasted another’s lips. The first to ever kiss them was his cousin, in that bed of wild heather. And so it seemed only fitting that the first to touch his skin like a lover, should be the same, after all... how could he miss something he had never had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 05 AN: This story is made for Marja, who asked for a Maedhros/Fingon fic, and that she shall have! – I know that it seems that Maedhros takes things very lightly, but I actually didn’t want to write 3 chapters about his inner turmoil, and therefore I made Fingon the youthful aggressor.


	4. That's me in the corner

_Consider this_   
_The hint of the century_   
_Consider this_   
_The slip that brought me_   
_To my knees - failed_   
_What if all these fantasies_   
_Come flailing around_

_Now I've said too much_   
_I thought that I heard you laughing_   
_I thought that I heard you sing_   
_I think I thought I saw you try_   
_But that was just a dream_

_R.E.M - Loosing my religion_

______________________________________________________

 

Six months went by and Maedhros held true to his word, and did not as much as touch Fingon in more than a camaraderie way. They spend almost every waking hour in the company of each other, except when Fingon was attending classes or was with his bird. Maedhros never learned to truly appreciate that, and found that if he wanted to see a bird fly about, he would rather go look at the seagulls riding the surf.

Ciryatan on the other hand, did not take this lightly; he had thought something was wrong when Maedhros just did not show up. It was usually he who had the upper hand, to come and go as he pleased, and the red haired princeling would wait for him. For weeks on end he had wracked his mind trying to find the answer to this question. Until one day he saw Fingon and Maedhros in the stables. They did not know he was there, and thought themselves alone. Standing still in the door, he listened in on their conversation. Apparently Maedhros was making Fingon wait for something, and the young elf was frustrated that he had to wait. But wait for what? Ciryatan bit a nail, and held his breath, hoping that more answers would come his way. Apparently this amused Maedhros. He could hear that deep rolling laughter flow freely, and hear Fingon's annoyed snort. Straining his hearing, he could hear Maedhros whisper seductively, 'I shall be yours in time, my beloved cousin.' Be yours? Would that mean? Ciryatan forgot to spit out the chewed off nail in sheer surprise! But that was wrong! They were blood relations. Had Maedhros really stopped seeing him, so he could instead offer himself to that little obnoxious child? The thought alone made Ciryatan so furious that he ground his teeth. As he heard the horses' hooves clang against the stones in the courtyard, he knew they had gone. He turned the corner and walked into the warm stable. "You will pay for this, Fingon," he hissed, kicking the open door to Fingon's horse stall. "I will make you wish you never left your mama's womb."

_______________________________

Sitting around the long heavy table in Fëanor's dining room, Maedhros seated himself next to his brother Caranthir. Caranthir was chatting away about how he and Celegorm had been out on an important errand that day. Maedhros thought nothing of it, and just nodded along with the conversation. But then their father entered, followed by the twins, who hurried to their seats as well. He looked awfully smug, even for Fëanor, thought Maedhros. "Family," he said opening his arms, making a gesture to the table, sporting a big smile. "Today is a joyous day!" he announced. He walked around the corner of the table, kissing his wife on the cheek as he went. Stopping behind Maedhros' chair, he placed both hands on his shoulders. "After a long search, we have found a suitable wife for you, my son," Fëanor said happily, and kissed the crown of Maedhros' head. "She shall arrive in two months, and the wedding will be shortly after that."

Maedhros paled, not daring a look to his cousin. In the back of his mind, he had known this was coming. When he had heard that his uncle Finarfin had married lady Eärwen, he knew that he was next in line, but had prayed that it would take his father years and years to find him a wife. Or rather he had prayed that his father would leave him alone. "P-papa," Maedhros said, his voice breaking. "Who, who is she?"

Fëanor smiled and gestured towards Ecthelion, who was seated in the far end of the table with Lindir and the other members of the household who had earned their seat at the family table, but were not blood related. "She, my son, is the daughter of my half-sister Findis, and sister to the young weapons master, Ecthelion. Her name is Ireth."

Not comfortable with this conversation at all, Maedhros smiled at Ecthelion who seemed to beam with pride, and then turned his head and looked up at his father. "Papa, can we speak of this later?"

Fëanor noticed the weak blush on his son's face, and smiled sweetly, thinking his son was just a little embarrassed, as this was an intimate issue. "But of course, my son," the large Noldo said, leaving his son's chair and returning to his own.

"Ecthelion, come here and sit by my brother's son. You have rightfully earned your seat with the family." Ecthelion stood, and strode with swift steps up to the chair next to Fingon and seated himself, with a slight nod to the other elf.

______________________________________________

Maedhros had spoken with his father, and was told that the wedding would be in two months, because he wanted to find a house for them that was close to where they lived, so he would not be separated from his family. Maedhros did not dare to oppose his father, but asked for the house by the cypresses at the border of the marsh. Fëanor had found it strange he wanted to be so far from his family, but Maedhros had pleaded so heartfelt, that Fëanor had allowed it.

Maedhros was avoiding Fingon, for he had no words for his cousin. There existed no excuse in the entire world that would ease their pain, and so Maedhros thought it better that they spent their time alone from now on. Sitting on the hill overlooking the ocean, he pulled the heather from the sandy ground in anger. The sun had set, and now a starlit sky formed over his head, but he was in no hurry to get home. Home meant Ecthelion making remarks about his sister's fine figure, and large attributes, or his brothers elbowing him, asking if he would claim her on their wedding night, or upon her arrival.

Tossing a plant as far as he could, he cried out loud from sheer frustration. This was the place where he would have lain his cousin down and made love to him, gentle mind-numbing love. Not the place where he would spend his last night before his wedding. Ireth had arrived at Fëanor's house, but he had not met her yet. His mother had chided him and said it was back luck, before she had shooed him out of the house, which was buzzing with activity, what with every elf in the household trying to decorate and make the wedding pretty.

"Cousin," he heard a soft voice say behind him.

"Go home, Fingon," he sneered. He had no need for Fingon's torment too.

"No," Fingon said, seating himself next to Maedhros. "You have been avoiding me, and I want to know why."

"You know why," Maedhros said with a voice full of regret.

"I thought you liked me. I thought we were friends," Fingon said softly, placing a hand on top of Maedhros'.

Maedhros didn't answer; he just wiped his tears with the back of his hand. "Please, cousin.. For the love of all! Go home" he whispered.

Fingon just sat silently in the dark and felt tears of his own fall from his cheeks onto his bare arms. "She is very pretty," he finally whispered. "You will like her. She is even more becoming than master Ecthelion."

Maedhros shook his head, before he turned around, and grabbing Fingon's upper arms hard, he shook the young elf like a rag doll. "GO HOME!" he screamed. "LEAVE ME ALONE!" Seeing the startled and frightened look in his cousin's eyes, Maedhros let go of Fingon. He looked hard at his young cousin, whose tears were flowing faster, in time with the hiccups caused by shock. "Forgive me," Maedhros whispered. "I did not mean to frighten you, but please return home, and leave me to my own darkness."

"Will you not share that darkness with me?" Fingon whispered as he hiccuped. "Maitimo."

Hearing his mother's given name spoken with such tenderness undid Maedhros, and he wrapped his arms around his cousin, crushing him in a tight embrace. "I wanted to, I prayed that you would not change your mind, even if our union would have to remain a secret, doomed to the shadows and the dead of night."

"Taste me now then, lay me down in the heather and claim my body as yours," Fingon whispered.

"No!" Maedhros shook his head. "I cannot claim what does not belong to me."

"I do." Fingon whispered as he wept. "I do belong to you. But it seems like you have made your choice."

Maedhros didn't answer, he just soaked Fingon's light green tunic with his tears. "Share my darkness then, stay here with me till dawn," he whispered moments later, as he let go of his death grip on his cousin. Laying down in the heather, he smiled as Fingon snuggled up to him, as a bitter reminder of what could have been.

"Will you leave these hills to be with your wife, and leave me untouched?" Fingon suddenly asked, running his hand through his cousin's thick red hair. "Do you love me, cousin? If you do, do not leave me behind with such painful memories."

Propping himself up on one elbow, Maedhros looked at his cousin in the dark. His face contorted in sorrow, as he placed a hand on Fingon's chest, holding him down, as his other hand undid his cousin's belt buckle. "Shhh," he hushed. Crawling down to Fingon's abdomen, he gently pushed the open pants away, freeing the younger elf's hard erection. Keeping one hand on Fingon's chest, Maedhros used the other to get a firm grip around the silky smooth flesh. He smiled as he kissed the head softly, hearing Fingon's surprised yelp.

Maedhros removed his hand from Fingon's chest and instead reached down between his cousin's thighs. As he used his mouth and tongue to stimulate the erection, he pushed a finger inside; aiming straight for the spot he knew would drive his beloved cousin mad with need. And soon, he felt the muscles of Fingon's thighs spasm, and that sweet voice that had raised itself in song for him so many times, now sung another tune, one of coming undone. Wrapping his legs around Maedhros' torso, Fingon grabbed a hold of the thick red hair with one hand, and with the other he held on to the vegetation on the ground, crying out loud as he climaxed.

Maedhros wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and kissed his cousin's softening member, his belly button and finally his lips, letting Fingon taste himself, before he flopped down on the grass next to his cousin. Neither of them spoke for the rest of the night, they just stayed there, lying together in the heather, arms and legs entwined, staring at the sky in silence.

___________________________________________________

Nerdanel cried, and Fingon was sure he could see Fëanor's eyes get moist, seeing their son standing there in the beautiful garden, waiting for his bride. Maedhros was dressed in the finest fabrics, and his hair was braided with different flowers, all with a different meaning. Some were there for love, others for prudence, and then again some for fertility. Fingon noticed that Maglor send a nervous secret look to Lindir who was standing next to him.

"Forgive me for my ill advice," Lindir whispered, taking Fingon's hand and squeezing it.

"There is nothing to forgive, my friend," Fingon whispered back, shifting nervously, looking transfixed upon Maedhros, who looked like he was about to bolt. And then Ecthelion and another male came, flanking an absolutely beautiful woman. Fingon knew exactly who she was. It was Ireth, the girl that Fëanor had chosen to be Maedhros' bride. Rumours had it that she had been the only one willing to marry the strange tall red haired elf, but seeing her, it was hard to believe those evil tongues. She was beautiful and graceful. She must have had many a suitor. And yet she had married Maedhros, 'his' Maedhros. Fingon wished he could cry, but there were no tears left in him. He had waited patiently for the day when he would follow his cousin to their secret hill, but now this day would never come, and seeing Curufin's gloating and hateful stare, Fingon went cold inside. What if they knew? What if they had not been as cautious as they thought?

With the wedding well over, the party began. And Maedhros was smiling, greeting everyone attending, his wife on his arm. His eyes locked with Fingon's as he came to where Fingon and Lindir stood. Finarfin had not come, for Eärwen had just born him a son, and he wanted to be home, with his family. Fëanor had been furious when both his brothers had declined his invitations, but they both had very good reasons to do so. Only Finwë and his aunts had shown, and maybe that was for the best. Maedhros knew that his father and his brothers shared a rather tense relationship, and Finarfin.. If Maedhros had had his way, he would never have been invited to his wedding. "Cousin," Maedhros said smiling. He turned to Ireth and said, "This is my favourite cousin, Fingon." Ireth smiled. "Ah, you must be Fingolfin's son then, the falconer my brother has spoken about".

Fingon couldn't help but to be a little flattered that Ecthelion had actually mentioned him to his sister. "Aye, I am he" he said.

"Ecthelion said you are very talented with the birds," Ireth said. Fingon had the decency to smile with a little embarrassment. "Your brother is very talented as well, lady Ireth. He should not praise me so." Ireth just chuckled and smiled.

Maedhros looked up and saw his father standing with Maglor, the twins and Nerdanel, speaking with his aunt Irimë. "Excuse me, cousin," he said, looking back to Fingon, not able to look into his eyes, not wanting to see the hurt and betrayal he found there. "I must speak with my father, I will see you again soon," Maedhros said, and Fingon nodded. "Yes, until then. Fare well, and behave with the lady, cousin." Maedhros laughed softly, and Ireth blushed.

Fingon hated standing here exchanging pleasantries with Maedhros, but he had no choice. Destiny had made that decision for them.

After accompanying Maedhros to where his father stood, Ireth excused herself and joined her parents and brother at a table. Nerdanel came to Maedhros and cupped his face in her slim hands. "You look beautiful, my son, just like I had imagined. Doesn't he look every bit royal, Fëanàro?" she said with a dreamy smile. Nerdanel was the only one besides Finwë that would even dare call Fëanor by that name. But Fëanor just came to her side and nodded. "You have made me proud, my son," he whispered as he pulled his rather stunned son in for an embrace. Maedhros felt his eyes fill with happy tears. Never had he heard that from his father, and yet that was all he wanted to hear.

"Papa," he mumbled, at a loss for other words. Fëanor let go of him, and kissed his cheek, apparently slightly tipsy and very happy. He grabbed Nerdanel and swung her around, before he sat her down laughing. "Stay here, I shall retrieve a drink, and we shall drink to our son's happiness," he said, literally beaming with pride.

Nerdanel chuckled and took Maedhros' hand and pulled him along, to where his aunt Irimë sat. "Aunt Irimë," Maedhros said, feeling slightly stupid, because his aunt was younger than he. She was about the same age as Fingon, and yet she was already betrothed. Sitting down, Nerdanel took Maedhros' hand and placed it on Irimë's slightly swollen belly. Smiling, Maedhros said "congratulations," knowing his mothers intent when she was so eager to show off her sister-in-law's pregnancy.

"My father has pushed the wedding, so we shall be wed as soon as Tîwele returns from the sea," Irimë said. Looking at Nerdanel, Irimë returned her attention to Maedhros. "Maybe it will be your beautiful wife that shall be expecting when we meet next."

Maedhros resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and just sat up, removing his hand from his aunt's belly with a little pat. "Maybe it shall be so," he said, seeing his mother smile at his words. He knew that once Nerdanel had a grandchild there would be no stopping her, but how could he father a child? He did not even want to kiss his poor bride. All he could think of was the texture of what his cousin Fingon had felt like under his hands and lips.

Fëanor returned with the glasses, and sat down next to his half sister. "I spoke with Findis; she is thrilled," he said. "I want her to continue to be thrilled, Maedhros," Fëanor said, lowering his voice so it got slightly darker and more threatening. "Promise me you will treat lady Ireth with the respect she deserves."

"Father... Why..." Maedhros started, but Fëanor cut him off, handing him his drink. "You are a young man, son. Just as I have been," he smiled smugly, "and I know what young men think of, promise me you will stray from any drink, fights and lovers. And devote yourself to your family."

Maedhros could have punched his father right in that moment, how dared he? He who had forced this marriage down his throat. "Yes, father," he just said, sipping his drink. "I will not disappoint you."

"Good," Fëanor said. And leaned back in his chair. Watching the party, smiling and waving at Maglor who stood with Lindir, Fingon and Ecthelion. At least he seemed happy, Maedhros thought to himself, knowing that it was he who had spread that smile on his father's handsome face. Taking a sip of his drink, he pulled his chair closer to Maedhros. "Listen son," he whispered. "Does your brother bed any of your cousins, or that Teleri elf?"

Maedhros would have dropped his cup, had he not clutched it till his knuckles went white. "Maglor does not tell me everything," he said with a impressive even tone.

Fëanor looked thoughtful. "That will not do," he murmured. "I have never seen him with any lass." Looking up, he met Maedhros' eyes. "Your brother is queer, but to bed his own cousins, I would not have thought that he would be so…" the dark haired elf searched for the right word "hmm... Struck."

"Struck?" Maedhros said. "Forgive me, father, but Ireth is also our cousin, so why is it wicked of my brother to bed a cousin?" he asked, squirming slightly in his chair.

"Ecthelion and Fingon are male," Fëanor just stated. "It is one thing, my son, to bed one of your own, but to allow yourself to think them capable of love, that is wrong." Maedhros looked confused, and Fëanor chuckled softly, kissing his sons cheek once more. "You have lain with another man, have you not?" he whispered.

Maedhros didn't trust his voice, or like the direction this conversation was going, so he merely nodded.

"Then you know what I mean. Men are takers, women givers. Two takers simply cannot make anything grow. That is a fact of life, no matter how sugar-coated the words may be."

Maedhros must have looked dumbstruck, because Fëanor roared with laughter and wrapped his arms around his son again. "My son, my first born, my babe. You have a family now; you should not worry your head with your brothers' trespasses. Think nothing more of it, go and attend to your lovely wife instead of sitting here listening to your slightly drunk father."

Maedhros smiled, and right at that moment it was all worth it. Everything! All the heartache and unfulfilled dreams, just to hear his father praise him so, and embrace him as his equal. "I love you, papa," Maedhros said softly, as he stood from his seat.

"I love you too, my son," Fëanor said, leaning back in his seat once more, just as Amrod saw his chance to sneak his way to his father's lap and snuggle up.

"Pitya," Maedhros said, ruffling his youngest brother's hair, turning and walking towards the table where Ireth sat, in deep conversation with her mother, Findis.

Much later, when the moon had risen, it was time for the bride and groom to retreat. Both Findis and Nerdanel had gone all teary-eyed again, but Maedhros was sure that it was because they had had a drink or two too many. Scanning the crowd, he saw Ecthelion and Lindir. Caranthir was there and so was Celegorm. But Fingon, Maglor and Curufin were missing. He decided to think nothing more of it, and with a slightly drunken smile, he lifted his bride and kissed her passionately before carrying her off to the house.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is made for Marja, who asked for a Maedhros/Fingon fic, and that she shall have! - Can you feel it? Disaster is in the air.. *snicker* And it's about here I should start warning for mild implied het! - well here I wander a little from what some consider canon, the published Silmarillion. J.R.R Tolkien mentions that after Finwë remarries to Indis, who is the mother of Finarfin and Fingolfin, then they actually had two daughters, Irimë, who is their firstborn child, ergo the elder sister of Finarfin and Fingolfin, and then they had another daughter named Findis, who is the youngest of them all. - The interesting theory is that Irimë *may* have been the mother of Aranwë, who in turn is the father of Voronwë, and so.. Remember this is based on Mr. Tolkien's notes, but then the conclusion of this is that because of the no other apparent reason for the privileged positions or lordship, of Glorfindel of the golden flower, and Ecthelion of the fountain, then it is believed that Irimë and/or Findis gave birth to either one of these lords, or both. The notes are rather inconclusive, but I kind of like that theory. (Source: J.R.R Tolkien's middle-earth legendarium/ middle-earth mythology) And so Irimë and Findis are used in this story, Irimë being the mother of Glorfindel, and Findis being the mother of Ecthelion and also of my made up character of Ireth. So... to make the confusion complete, this would mean that Ecthelion is in fact also Maedhros' cousin, and so is Ireth. - Ah apart from that (annoyingly long authors note innit?) then I should perhaps mention that Maedhros would be around the 19 maybe 20, and Fingon around the 17, in human years I mean.. I get a headache trying to count in elven years, so I don't even try.


	5. I'm sorry I just throw you away

_How did it start?_   
_Well, I don’t know._   
_I just feel the craving._   
_I see the flesh and it smells fresh._   
_And it's just there for the taking._   
_These little girls they make me feel so_   
_Goddamn exhilarated._   
_I feel them up, I can't give it up._   
_The pain that I'm just erasing._   
_I tell my lies and I despise._   
_Every second I'm with you._   
_So I run away and you still stay._   
_So what the fuck is with you?_

_Your feelings I can't help but rape them._   
_I'm sorry I don't feel the same._   
_My heart inside is constantly hating._   
_I'm sorry I just throw you away._

_Korn – Trash._

_______________________________________________________

 

Strong arms pinned him down; Fingon had never thought Curufin to be that much stronger than he. The Fëanorian’s gleeful grin sent jolts of fear traveling up Fingon’s spine. “Cousin,” Curufin spat, “I have a little surprise for you.”

“Curufin, cousin, let me go,” Fingon heard his own much less powerful peep. But this just made Curufin’s gloating grin become even more hateful. “Let’s call it a wedding gift, from me to you, on behalf of my big brother.”

Fingon noticed a snickering in the background, and instantly recognised Celegorm’s voice. “Celegorm, Caranthir, help me,” Curufin called. “Hold him down.” The two elves came to their brother’s aid, and held down their cousin on the dirt floor of the falconry.

“Curufin? What are you going to do with him? You said you just wanted to spook him,” Caranthir said. “He looks plenty spooked to me.”

“Silence, brother,” Curufin barked. “Just hold him down as I ask you to.” Once they had a firm grip on Fingon, Curufin let go, and just sat triumphantly across his cousin’s hips. He crossed his arms as he looked down on Fingon, who was pale as a sheet. “Dear, darling little Findekáno,” he said with a dangerous edge to his words. “You look pale, maybe you do not get enough rest?”

Fingon wanted to scream and kick, but all that came out was “Cu-Curufin?”

“Is my brother keeping you up at night?” Curufin asked sweetly. Seeing Fingon close his eyes and flinch, Curufin knew he had hit a nerve. “Ah, but I know, and so do my brothers.” Suddenly reaching out, Curufin grabbed a hold of Fingon’s chin, squeezing it hard. “You begged him, didn’t you? You got on your knees and pleaded for him to touch you.” Leaning down as if he were to kiss his cousin, Curufin spat in Fingon’s face, causing Fingon to whimper. “You are a filthy whore,” he hissed, “and you stained my big brother with your dirty hands, smothered with hundreds of men’s sweat and semen, and your lips, I can smell your breath from here, it smells like rot, from your decaying insides. You cannot be related to us. Your mother must have been a whore like you, and your father a sailor whom had not tasted a woman in months.”

Caranthir giggled nervously, only earning himself an angry hush from Curufin.

“Yo-you have had your fun, now let me go, cousin,” Fingon said, noticing his voice was full of unshed tears, being frightened by Curufin’s overwhelming hate.

“Fun?” Curufin roared with laughter. “I, dear cousin, am not even slightly amused yet,” and with that he grabbed Fingon’s hair and pulled his head upwards, knocking him out with three fast blows right to Fingon’s face.

As Fingon woke once more, he found his wrists bound. Feeling night air on his skin he reckoned that his tunic was gone, but his pants were still there. Tasting leather and blood, he opened his eyes. And gave a muffled yelp as he stared right into the hateful glare of Curufin once more.

“Good morning handsome, I trust you slept well?” He walked around Fingon, with his hands resting on the small of his back, as if he were inspecting something. “It’s a shame I cannot hear your pretty voice, but we wouldn't want all of my big brother’s wedding party to come running, not that they would run anywhere, those who are still standing are drunk as skunks.” Coming round full circle to Fingon’s front again, Curufin smiled. “You wanted loooove, didn’t you?” he said in a soft mocking voice, “and I will give you just that, and plenty of it.” Reaching up, Curufin grabbed the long end of Fingon’s belt, which they had used to muzzle him. Yanking it, making it even tighter.” Speaking of which, neither my brothers nor I would sink so low as to touch you, we might catch some illness, you see,” he smiled, “but I don’t think that the head master of the stable and his friends are as picky as us. After all, they will bed anything that breathes, and that includes you, for now.”

Fingon’s eyes widened by Curufin’s words, he could not mean this? He would not do this! He was just scaring him, no one would be this evil, this cold.

“Call Ciryatan” Curufin said loudly, directed at his brothers. And Caranthir got up and left the falconry. “Now that we have had this little heart to heart, cousin, I should perhaps tell you that running to my father will do you no good. You see, we will all claim that you got drunk with us, and offered yourself freely, but it was an offer we did not take.” Curufin smiled as his own genius. “Who do you think he will believe? You? Or us?”

Looking away from Fingon’s large frightened eyes, he saw Caranthir come back, and this time he had Ciryatan and four other elves with him. Curufin smiled. “There you are,” he said softly, and returning to Fingon’s attention he pinched his cousin’s cheek hard. “I shall leave the stage to you, dear cousin.” And with that he left and went behind Fingon.

Fingon could not hear where he had gone, even if he strained his hearing, but he heard glasses clanking as someone toasted.

Ciryatan did not waste time, and with Fingon’s belt used as a muzzle, all he had to do was to pull down the young elf’s pants with a swift move. And then removing his own pants, he tossed them over the beam that Fingon’s hands were tied to, which ran from one end of the falconry to the other, normally used for placing the falcons, but not today. Running his sweaty hands up Fingon’s flanks, he leaned in and whispered, “you have been very, very naughty.” He meant of course that Fingon had run off with Maedhros, but that did not even cross Fingon’s mind. It was a mess of cobwebs and butterflies, ready to get caught and panic, and as Ciryatan spanked his bottom hard, Fingon panicked, pure unleashed panic, thrashing in his restraints, screaming, kicking, crying. Anything to get away from this! His mind tried to tell him that this was not real, that it was a nightmare. But his body told him otherwise, and as Ciryatan rammed himself into his tight, virgin anus, Fingon roared with pain, not realising that he had emptied his bladder, and the urine soaked his pants on its way down his leg towards the ground. Nor did he hear Curufin’s thrilled exclamation of disgust over his inability to control his bladder.

Watching with growing interest, Curufin noticed that Fingon had fainted, and tossed his drink in his face, smiling to himself as he saw his cousin groan and drool stomach acid down his chin. “Don’t you just look lovely?” Curufin said.

Later when Ciryatan and his friends had gotten bored with the game, they put their pants on again and sat down on the floor to share a drink with the Fëanorians. Caranthir got up and cut down Fingon, who sagged in his arms. He gently laid his cousin on the dirt floor, and removed the belt, and the rope around his wrists, pulling Fingon’s pants up as best he could, before he joined his brothers and the violators in their drinking game.

Why Maglor had gone to the falconry he didn’t really know. He had heard voices and laughter, and recognizing the voices as his brothers, he thought he would see what they were doing, thinking that they were serving wine to the falcons or something similarly stupid. But what he encountered as he opened the door was something he could never have imagined, not even in his wildest dreams. His brothers, drinking with some other elves, and in the middle of the floor lay their cousin, soiled and unconscious, looking as if he were dead. Even his lips were deadly pale.

“What is this?” Maglor said, looking over at the drinking party. Ciryatan opened his mouth to speak in his drunken state, but Maglor’s anger rose and he hit the elf across the face, crying “get out! Leave me with my brothers.”

Ciryatan rubbed his abused cheek and slowly rose to his feet, dodging the second born son of Fëanor as he stood there fuming. As swiftly as possible, Ciryatan and his drunken friends had left the falconry, leaving Maglor with his brothers.

Curufin looked up at Maglor. “You are such a bore, Maglor,” he said with a wolfish grin.

Grabbing Curufin by the throat, Maglor pulled his younger brother to his feet. “Would you be so kind as to explain why our cousin is lying on the floor, soiled and deadly pale?” Maglor hissed.

Celegorm downed his drink quickly, and Caranthir cleared his throat, but remained seated. “Brother, I can explain,” he said with a strange strained voice.

Curufin gagged as Maglor squeezed even harder. Quickly Caranthir got to his feet and came to stand next to his taller, elder brother. “He was drunk, and he... he...” Caranthir said with a tiny voice, fidgeting his sleeve, “he offered himself to those other elves, the ones that just left.”

“Is that true?” Maglor growled shaking Curufin hard. Curufin clawed Maglor’s hand, gasping for breath, and when Maglor suddenly released him, Curufin sagged to the ground, coughing and spitting. “It’s-it’s true,” he said with a raw voice.

Maglor raised a brow. “You expect me to believe that our cousin Fingon came in here and offered his body to these... these... peasants?”

“Brother,” Curufin coughed, looking up at his big brother, obviously in pain, and very angry. “We did not touch him,” he hissed. “If you do not believe me, ask Celegorm, or Caranthir. We did not inflict this on our cousin.” Celegorm and Caranthir nodded vigorously. “If you do not believe me, smell him, he was so drunk that he soiled himself.”

Maglor faltered for a second. “And you, brothers,” he said, relaxing a little, “you did nothing?”

“But he wanted it! Who were we to stop him?” Curufin argued, still rubbing the bruised skin on his throat.

Running a hand through his long black hair, Maglor groaned. He knew they did not tell the truth; he could taste it in the air, but he wanted badly to believe his brothers were not capable of such an act.

“Curufin, you and Celegorm can carry him to the house. Caranthir, wake papa. And I shall fetch the healer,” he said, trying to take charge of matters.

His brothers nodded, and Caranthir bolted from the falconry, running across the grass, wet from morning dew, toward the house.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 05 AN; This story is made for Marja, who asked for a Maedhros/Fingon fic, and that she shall have! – Well there are four issues I need to address here. First, I don’t really care if it’s fanon or canon that elves die when violated, they don’t in this story. Second, the use of Quenyan names. I used them as a kind of “real name,” an endearment which only family and close friends would call you. Third, there is the boy/girl man/woman versus elf/female elf, or Ellon/Elleth thing. I chose to write man/woman, as I didn’t want to put anymore complicated words in this fic than there already was. And fourth, there is character death in this chapter, and I have absolutely no idea if it was OK for elves to kill another elf that had violated or killed some other elf. In my story the Valar bend their kinslaying rules for this purpose.


	6. I’m watching it from above

_I wonder what it's like_   
_Seeing through your eyes_   
_You've offered me to have a try_   
_But I was always late_   
_The filters that I use_   
_Give me an excuse_   
_I take away what's real_   
_I feel it and it blows my fuse_

_The Cardigans - Hanging around_

______________________________________________________

 

Somehow Maedhros believed the morning of his wedding would be different. But he had been woken with a start when he heard his mother scream as if she were being tortured. Maedhros quickly pulled on a pair of pants and hurried out his rooms, not even kissing his wife. He did feel a little bad for just taking off like that, as they had been snuggled under the covers enjoying their first morning as husband and wife.

Reaching the dining room, he could see Maglor holding their hysterical mother, and Fëanor was nowhere to be seen. “Oh no,” she just repeated over and over. Maedhros looked over at Maglor, but his little brother would not even meet his gaze. “They are in father’s study,” he said to the floor. Not wasting more time, Maedhros walked through the elves in the room, and flung up the door to his father’s study. He had been ready for a lot of things, but this. Curufin, Celegorm and Caranthir all seated on a bench, with their hands in their laps, with guilt ridden expressions upon their faces. His father’s desk was covered in blood and had a torn pair of green silk pants lying on the floor. Fëanor turned around, and looked at his first-born son. “What are you doing here?” he said coldly.

“Father,” he just whispered “what happened here?” Fëanor ignored him and turned to the two other flustered elves who stood in his office. “Father,” Maedhros said again with a high-pitched voice, “whose blood is that?” Fear flushed through his body, as he remembered he had not seen Amrod or Amras this morn.

Finally Fëanor turned to his son, and as if he was reading his sons mind he said, “Your brothers are all in good health.” Fëanor turned and looked at the two elves and his sons on the bench. “Leave us,” he said, “but do not stray far. I am not finished with any of you.”

Maedhros’ three brothers and the two advisors left the room silently and quickly. “Sit,” Fëanor said gesturing to a chair, and Maedhros sat. “I did not call for you, I did not want this incident to ruin the first morning you had as a husband.” He raised a perfect eyebrow and smiled. “But since you seem to have abandoned your wife this morn, I expect you deserve an answer for the blood and commotion.” Maedhros kept still. He just looked up at his father, all the while fidgeting with his sleeve.

“This blood belongs to your cousin Fingon,” Fëanor stated. Maedhros paled and open his mouth to speak, but Fëanor hushed him with a gesture of his hand. “Before you speak, you must know that he is no longer here, and the culprits have been apprehended.”

“Fingon’s blood?” Maedhros whispered, feeling like he was about to be sick. “But there is so much, is he?....”

“He is alive, son,” Fëanor said softly. Pouring a glass of wine for himself, he filled a second glass and offered it to Maedhros. “Your brothers told me that your cousin had gotten mad from drinking, and had offered his ‘services’ to the master stable help, and his friends.”

“No... I.. father, you cannot believe that!” Maedhros cried out in outrage.

“Will you I call your brothers liars?” Fëanor said.

“Nay,” Maedhros whispered, slowly resting back in his seat again. “But that does not explain all the blood,” he said, taking a sip of his wine, feeling numb throughout his entire body.

“They were rather rough on him, Maitimo,” Fëanor said, stepping out in front of his son, looking down on the freckled face that seemed deathly pale. “I do realise that he is your favourite cousin, and that you hold him dear. Maybe you should go and see him. He is in the healers house at the harbour.”

Fuming on the inside, Maedhros held his glass so tightly that his knuckles went white, but dared not oppose his fathers judgement. “What of the culprits, what will happen to them? Surely they will pay for their foul deed.” He looked up at his father, with eyes swimming with angry, unshed tears.

“Let the council and Fingolfin deal with that, my son. I am sure they will be punished severely,” Fëanor said.  
“Father, you cannot mean that we should wait for the council to take action!” Maedhros stood from his chair and slammed his glass down into the drying blood on Fëanor’s desk. “Look at this blood, father. This belongs to your nephew! Surely you... you...” Noticing Fëanor’s emotionless face, Maedhros stopped his rant. And looked at his father closely. “You want to cleanse my brothers, that is what this is about!” Grabbing his fathers arm in a moment of fury, he pulled Fëanor closer. “You think they had something to do with this, don’t you?” he hissed. Seeing Fëanor’s surprised expression at his son’s courage, Maedhros reached a conclusion. “You *know* they had something to do with it!”

Fëanor pushed Maedhros across the room. The younger elf stumbled backwards and fell down as he hit the chair in which he had been seated just moments ago. “Careful with your words, son,” Fëanor growled, his eyes ablaze with inner fire. “I would think twice before I accuse my own blood for a heinous crime as this.”

Maedhros just stared at his father with wide eyes. “I don’t believe this!” he hissed. “Was it you? Was it you who commissioned this? Did you sit in the middle of the web and pull your strings?!”

“How dare you?” Fëanor roared, grabbing a sword from the decoration on his wall, and with a swift move, the tip suddenly rested against Maedhros’ throat. “You are just a little boy acting as a big man, Maedhros. You are still my son, living in my house, and you will do as I say, and I say let it rest, leave it to the council.” Turning the sword slightly so it drew little droplets of blood, Fëanor looked down at his son, sprawled on the floor. Maedhros fought the urge to close his eyes, and the insane need he had to swallow, knowing that a move like that would only make the point of the sword cut deeper. “I am your father, and you will heed my will.”

Maedhros whimpered, feeling the sword cut deeper into his skin. “Y-yes fat-father,” he whispered, as he closed his eyes in his defeat.  
__________________________________________  
Nerdanel, Maglor and Maedhros had gone to the healer’s house to see Fingon. But they had not been allowed entrance. Fingon was too weak, but they were told that he had not spoken a word, and by this time, the healer they spoke with doubted that he ever would. Maedhros had heard his own voice tremble as he had asked what had happened. Maglor took his brother’s hand, knowing the answer they would get. That Fingon had been raped, the blood had come from his torn insides, not from some stab wound. Maedhros had paled, but not spoken a word; he just walked between his mother and brother the whole way home in silence. In bed that night, he slept with his back to his wife; he felt as if he touched her, he would betray his cousin. Ireth sensed the troubled thoughts of her husband, and tried to argue that it had come as a shock to all, and that Fingon had been her cousin as well. But Maedhros just shrugged her hand off his shoulder, and in the end she just settled down and fell asleep with tears in the corners of her eyes, not understanding why her husband would reject her thus.  
__________________________________________  
Two months later, Maedhros had woken early. Blinking, he looked at the bleak light outside his window. Turning in his bed, he saw that the other side of his bed was empty. Frowning, he sat up, “Ireth?” he called. But no answer came; maybe he had been taking his frustration and anger towards his father out on her, treating her with cold silence and dry touches, if any. “Ireth? Sweetheart?” he called, and still no answer. Maedhros got out of bed, wrapping the cover around his waist, and slowly walked out of the bedroom. He searched everywhere for her as he walked down the corridor. “Ireth?” he called again “sweetness? Where are you?”

Walking further down the corridor, he came to the stairs that led down to the dining room. He could hear voices, and descended the stairs. Smiling as he saw Nerdanel and Ireth sit by the fire talking drinking tea, he crossed the room to sit by them. Maedhros kissed his wife’s hand and smiled. “I woke and you were gone”. “Maitimo,” Ireth said with a smile, “forgive me for startling you, I thought you would sleep late”. Nerdanel rose. “We should all get some sleep. Come, children.” Maedhros couldn't help but chuckle as his mother shooed them both up the stairs. Ireth sought her husband’s hand, and to her delight he took it, entwining their fingers as they walked to their bedroom. Once inside, Maedhros closed the door, wrapping his arms around his wife. “Forgive me for leaving you alone like that, I just had some matters I had to straighten out.” He smiled a little disarming smile, and she kissed his lips softly. “Maitimo?” Ireth whispered, “I am with child.”

Blinking in surprise, he looked down at Ireth who smiled a brilliant smile. “I..I.. never...” burying his wife in a crushing embrace. “I love you,” he whispered over and over. And for the first time since they had shared that first kiss, nothing was further from his mind than Fingon. Not even as he took his wife to bed and showed her his love, did his cousin cross his mind. Not until later, not until noon when he woke with someone literately knocking his door down, calling his name. “My lord! Maedhros!” the elf on the other side called. Maedhros got out of bed, smiling at his sleeping wife as he pulled on his pants, on his way to answering the door.

“My lord,” the elf said, as Maedhros opened the door, “the council has ended their voting.” Maedhros just stood as if nailed to the floor as the messenger delivered his message. “The wrongdoers will be hung for their heinous crime, today.” Nodding, Maedhros just asked with a mere whisper, “when?” The messenger looked over his shoulder, and leaned in to whisper, “I am not allowed to tell you, this is a matter that the Valar themselves have blessed, so say the council.”

Maedhros shook his head. “Thank you,” he said simply. As the messenger turned to leave, he grabbed his arm. “My cousin, Fingon. What news of him?” The messenger shook his head. “None, my lord, none other than he has been returned in disgrace to his father, and now dwells there. The healers cannot help those who does not wish to be helped,” he said cryptically. “I do not know what it means, but that is what the healer said to the party that came to fetch you poor ill fated cousin.”

Maedhros let go of the messenger’s arm, and nodded. “Thank you,” he murmured again, and slammed the door, waking Ireth. “Maitimo?” she said, sitting up in bed, rubbing her eyes. “What is amiss, my dear?” Maedhros stalked into the room. “Ireth, pack your belongings, do not ask, just do it. We are leaving.”

Ireth got out of bed quickly, and grabbed Maedhros’ arm. “Leave? What do you mean?”

“I will not stay here any longer.” He pulled his arm away. Looking down at Ireth who looked frightened, his face mellowed and offered her a little smile. “Don’t ask, just pack,” he said in a softer voice. She nodded and smiled, a little reassured as Maedhros kissed her softly, as he gently ran a hand over her stomach. He could not tell her the reasons for their departure, but he did not want to stay here a second longer, not when Ireth was carrying his firstborn child. His children should not grow up in such a decaying place as this. He was sure his brothers had been the masterminds behind Fingon’s misfortune. He could smell it! He had seen their little secretive smiles, and as big an idiot as Ciryatan was, Maedhros was sure he would never dare to hurt anyone this badly. He might be a terrible lover, but he was not a killer, and he did not deserve a fate this cruel. All because Fëanor wanted to protect his house from scandal, and his sons from punishment.

As they left, Fëanor did not even come out of his office. Maglor had wept, so had the twins. Nerdanel had begged him to stay and not to make Ireth journey in her state, but Maedhros had been deaf to it all. He had only heard the tormented wails from his cousin, and the laughter of his brothers, and felt the indifference from his father. He saw a figure by the big mosaic window in his father’s study, and knew he watched them. He had hugged his mother and told her he loved her, the twins too, and Maglor he had held for a long time, whispering to him to come and stay with him in the little house by the cypresses, and not to stay here and become a tool for their father, in his ridiculous attempt to rule all of Tirion. His brother had just smiled, and kissed him on his cheek.  
When they finished saying their goodbyes, they had left. Maedhros had turned in his saddle to look up on the window from his fathers study, but there was no one looking out anymore, and his heart sank, realising what he had just done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 05 AN: This story is made for Marja, who asked for a Maedhros/Fingon fic, and that she shall have! - Well there are four issues I need to address here, one. I don’t really care if its fanon or canon that elves die when violated, they don’t in this story. The second being the use of queyan names, I used them as a kid of “real name” an endearment whom only family and close friends would call you. Third, there is the boy/girl man/woman versus elf/female elf, or Ellon/Elleth thing.. I chose to write man/woman, I don’t wanted to put anymore complicated words in this fic than there already was. And at last the fourth, there is character death in this chapter, and I have absolutely no idea if it was ok for elves to kill another elf that had violated or killed some other elf, in my story the Valar bend their kinslaying rules for this purpose.


	7. A stupid mission and a lethal fight

_And this is not a case of lust, you see_   
_It’s not a matter of you versus me_   
_It’s fine the way you want me on your own_   
_But in the end it’s always me alone._

_I only know what I’ve been working for_   
_Another you so I could love you more_   
_I really thought that I could take you there_   
_But my experiment is not taking us anywhere._

_The Cardigans – My favourite game._

_____________________________________________________________

 

Standing here with his son, Maedhros couldn't remember a time when he had felt calmer. Ireth was resting and the midwife had sent Maedhros away with the child. Honouring the family tradition, he kissed his son’s cheek, looking out over the moor. “This is where you live, far from others. You will never know another child, if it is not your own sibling.” He closed his eyes and smiled bitterly. “Under other circumstances, your entire family would be here to shower you with presents, and love. But they are not. They do not even know of your existence.” Looking down at the sleeping baby in his arms, he smiled and looked out over the foggy moor again. “There will be no naming celebration for you, my son, my poor ill-fated son. Your name shall be Erefinwë.”   
He stood there and stared at the fog moving over the moor, until the midwife came to get him. It was time to go and see Ireth. She had awoken, tired and worn, but she was well enough to see them both.  
_____________________________________________  
Two months later, they had settled back into a familiar routine once again. Maedhros was sitting outside the house, watching his servants ride off to market, wishing he could follow, but he never did. He had not been into Tirion since he had left his father’s house. Squinting his eyes, he saw a horse with a rider that greeted the servants with a wave, before it again came closer. This could only be one! Standing up, Maedhros called for Ireth to come out. She came outside, carrying the babe, whom she had named Séretur, but they both just called him Erestor. The baby was trying to put his mother’s hair into his mouth, and gagged when he succeeded. “It’s Maglor, it’s my brother, I am sure!” Maedhros said excitedly. Ireth could see how relieved her husband, so she just settled down in a chair on the grass, putting Erestor down so he could crawl in the grass near her.

As the rider came closer, Maedhros recognized his brother and waved at him. Maglor waved back, and kicked the horse to go faster. Once there in front of the house he slid down, and buried his big brother in a tight embrace. “Maitimo,” he whispered, “My dear, dear brother, how I missed you.”

Maedhros felt tears of happiness fall from his eyes; they had not all forsaken him. “How are you?” Maedhros asked. “Mother? Our brothers? And father… Do they all fare well?”

Maglor nodded. “All are well.” He smiled and nodded towards Erestor on the grass. “And this, I take it, is my nephew?”

When Maedhros beamed with pride, Maglor chuckled before he walked over and hugged Ireth as well. “He is beautiful, dear cousin Ireth.” Sitting down in the grass to pick up Erestor, Maglor looked up at Maedhros. “I just saw Findis a few days ago. Why did she not speak of her grandchild?”

“She does not know of his existence,” Ireth said with slightly more venom than intended. “My husband will not let me travel into Tirion with Erestor and announce it.”

“Mother does not understand why you do not visit,” Maglor said, tilting his head, looking slightly accusingly at his big brother. “She misses you dearly, and wishes to see her first grandchild.”

“Did she send you?” Maedhros said with a sudden ice-cold voice. “I told you, and I told mother, I refuse to return.”

“Maitimo,” Ireth said softly, “you must return. Think of Erestor. Will he grow up this isolated? With the city full of his kin, whom you refuse access to your house, all because you see conspiracies that might not even be true.”

Maedhros turned around and raised his hand to slap his wife. “Silence, woman!” he roared. But for a split second he saw her eyes big and scared, and he let his hand fall. “You ride to Tirion if you so please, but you will not take my son,” he said with a hard but low voice.

Ireth got up from her chair and picked up Erestor from Maglor’s knee. “You are worse than your father,” she hissed as she brushed past her husband.

Maglor sat in silence for a long time, until Maedhros sat down in the chair, shaking his head, grabbing the chair’s edge so hard his knuckles went white. “I will not return to them,” he whispered behind clenched teeth. “They took Fingon’s innocence and think nothing of it, vile beasts, only concerned about power and politics. They have no compassion left in their hearts.”

“Brother,” Maglor said softly, scooting closer to Maedhros, “you should reconsider your harsh choice. You might be upset with lady Ireth, but she is right. You cannot condemn your son to this life.”

Maedhros took a deep shuddering breath. “They destroyed him, Maglor! They darkened my heart and drowned my soul.”

“But you have lady Ireth,” Maglor argued softly, taking his brother’s hand. “Think of her, and think of your son.”

Maedhros smiled a strange strained smile. “Have you seen him? I need to know.”

Maglor frowned. “No, I have not been to uncle Fingolfin’s house. And if you wish that information you must visit yourself. Surely our uncle will not forbid you to see your cousin.”

Maedhros saw the servants returning from the market in the horizon. “Will you stay for dinner, brother? It would mean a lot to both me and Ireth.”

Maglor shook his head. Ireth was indeed right when she claimed that Maedhros was a copy of his father. “Yes, I will stay for dinner. I am looking forward to holding my nephew some more.”

“Erefinwë,” Maedhros said flatly. “That is his name. My wife calls him Erestor, and I must admit that even I find myself calling him that.” He smiled softly. “He will love you, Maglor. I know this because it is impossible not to.” Maglor laughed and rose to his feet, and followed by Maedhros, they went inside the house.  
___________________________________________________  
Three days after Maglor left, Maedhros lay in bed, looking up in the ceiling. Was he really the one in the wrong? Had his temper gotten the better of him? Was he really being unfair to both Ireth and Erestor? Smiling, he felt a cold wet body crawl over him, hair dripping with wet little droplets. “Ireth,” he laughed and squirmed as something tickled him, “You are cold.”

“I know,” she whispered seductively, kissing her husband’s nipple, slowly moving downwards, her cold wet hair dragging down Maedhros’ chest. Purring as he realised her intention, he placed a hand on top of her head, pushing her slowly and wordlessly downwards. “Erestor is a prince,” she whispered, nibbling on Maedhros’ inner thigh. “Let him claim his title.”

Maedhros nodded and spread his legs further apart, until Ireth could lie between them. She smiled wickedly. Eyes on her husband, she ran the tip of her tongue in a trail up the entire length of his erection. Maedhros’ brows furrowed and a little sigh escaped his slightly parted lips. “Answer me, Maitimo,” she whispered again. When he didn’t answer, she did the same again, while a long nailed finger ran in lazy circles around Maedhros anus. Whimpering in frustration, Maedhros reached out for his wife, but she quickly removed her lips from his swollen member. “Answer me, and I shall give you want you want,” she purred, adding pressure to Maedhros’ guardian muscle.

“Yes...” Maedhros half moaned, “Yes, yes, yes.”

Pushing her finger inside, she aimed for the spot she knew would have her husband a writhing mess in minutes, as she blew little puffs of air on the aching head of his erection. “Yes what, my dear?” she said, watching Maedhros’ face as she brushed the little bundle of nerves inside him.

“I.. I...” Maedhros whimpered, “take him, take him to fa.. mmmmmmm, ah,.. Father.”

“Good boy,” Ireth said with a smile, before taking the length of her husband in her mouth, giving him exactly what she knew he loved the most.  
________________________________________________  
As he sat on his horse the next day with Erestor in front of him, he didn’t feel quite as coy. Sending his wife a venomous glare, he kicked the sides of the horse and started the first journey into Tirion he had ever taken as a father. Ireth rode off in another direction as they entered the city; she missed her mother and wanted to see her, while Maedhros with a thundering heart rode straight to his father’s house. His entire family fell over themselves to greet them. Even Curufin embraced him, and he could see that the claim that he had missed him was genuine. And truthfully, he had missed them all as well. He walked inside the house, as Amrod and Amras fought over whom got to hand over the gift their mother had made Erestor.

“Mama?” Maedhros said, looking at his mother with sad eyes, “where is he? Where is papa?”

Nerdanel smiled with her eyes red from crying happy tears, and new tears found their way to her eyes as she heard her son call her by his childhood endearment. “Your father is in his study.”

Maedhros nodded and walked up the stairs. His heart hammered so hard he thought it would break from his ribcage. He had failed his father, and he was not sure his father would embrace him as the rest of the family had. The mere statement of him not coming to greet him, even if he knew he had been sent for, spoke for itself. Taking a deep breath as he came to a standstill in front of the black wooden door, he knocked. “Father?” he said, and exhaled slowly as he took a hold of the door handle and found the door open.

Fëanor sat in his windowsill, trying to look indifferent. Maedhros knew better. When his father looked indifferent, he was in fact furious. “I… brought my son,” he murmured.

“Oh?” Fëanor said, still not looking at his son. “Why were we not sent for when he was born. We should have been there to celebrate his birth.”

Maedhros looked down unto the wooden floor, and sighed. “Would you have come, had I sent for you?”

Fëanor didn’t answer. “Why are you here?” he asked instead, as he sat up, and for the first time looked at his son. “What do you think you will achieve from coming here?”

Wringing his hands nervously, Maedhros cleared his throat. “I just wanted you to see Erefinwë,” he said in a small voice.

Fëanor raised a brow. “Liar,” he spat, knowing his son was the spitting image of himself, which both made him proud, and fearful, but most of all sad, knowing how much heartache his son would have to endure in the wake of his temper.  
Maedhros shook his head. “Ireth pleaded me to take him to his family, and how can I refuse my wife?” he said softly. It was not the truth, but not exactly a lie either.

A slow smile spread on Fëanor’s face that Maedhros did not see. “She tricked you?”

Maedhros blushed and nodded. “Aye..” he whispered. Looking up at his father, and at the sight of his father’s knowing smile, he blushed crimson. “Will you see your grandson?” he asked, fighting a smile.

Fëanor nodded. “Aye, I will see Erefinwë,” he said, taking a step forward, enveloping his son in a warm embrace, not offering his son any words, but this fatherly touch. Letting go, walked over to the cabinet and filled two glasses with clear alcohol. “Father?” Maedhros said “is it true what Maglor told me, that cousin Fingon was sent home in disgrace?” Seeing his father frown, Maedhros quickly added, “I wish to see him, but I know not where he resides.”

Fëanor sighed. “Aye, he was sent to his father’s house to mend.” Turning around, he gave his son the glass, and then added, “He never did, and has not spoken a single word since the accident in the falconry. I don’t think it is wise for you to visit. Last I heard, Fingolfin was thinking of sending him further up the coast to a place of spiritual healing and mending, for he himself has lost hope.”  
Maedhros paled. “He is sending him away?”

“I believe so,” Fëanor said. “But I have heard no word of his departure.”   
  
“And the culprits?” Maedhros said. Fëanor looked thoughtful for a moment. “They hung, I was there, believe me, they are dead.” Tucking a strand of red hair behind his son’s pointed ear, in a strange tender gesture, Fëanor whispered “I know you shared yourself with one of them, but he never hurt you, did he? You would have told me, would you not?”

Maedhros didn’t quite know what to make of this, but he just nodded. “Aye, Ciryatan.” Puzzled by the urgent look in his father’s eyes, he added, “No papa, he never hurt me.”

Fëanor seemed to let out a breath he had been holding. “Good, my son,” he just said. “Now, let us drink a toast to your firstborn son, and speak no more of ill times gone by.” Maedhros smiled and toasted with his father, and right at this moment, he shone in his father’s undivided attention, something he had always longed for, and only seldom had gotten.  
_____________________________________________________  
It was several days before he once more left the house of Fëanor, promising he would never stay away for this long again. He should pick up Ireth, but instead of riding to see his aunt Findis, he rode to his uncle Fingolfin’s house instead. Receiving a measured, official greeting, Turgon showed him to where Fingon was, taking Erestor on his hip back to the house, waiting for the messenger to return with lady Ireth, as Turgon has sent as soon as he had heard that his cousin had left his wife at her mother’s house. Turgon found this to be outrageous, but he could do nothing but make sure that the lady knew where her son was.

Walking down the pebbled path that Turgon had pointed out to him, Maedhros’ breath was caught in his throat as he saw a figure sitting in a chair, covered in a white sheet, his hair tussled from sleeping, and he was not prepared for the vision that met him as he walked around the back of the linen clad elf. It was Fingon; it was easy to tell by the large blue eyes surrounded by long black lashes, longer than any girl Maedhros knew. But his face had fallen; he looked ashen and sick, and much too thin. Maybe Fingolfin really was doing the right thing by sending his son from his side, for he was indeed not mending.

“Cousin?” Maedhros said as he squatted down in front of the other elf, resting his elbows on Fingon’s knees, taking his cousin’s cold hands in his. “Findekàno,” he whispered, “It is me, Maitimo, can you hear me?” No response came from the elf who looked like a living corpse. “No, you can’t hear me, can you?” Tears welled up in Maedhros’ eyes. “Please wake up, please mend,” he whispered with a broken voice full of tears. Seeing no change in his beloved cousin’s face, Maedhros gave in and wept. He buried his head in Fingon’s lap, caressing his own cheek with his cousin’s cold limp hand, now wet from tears. “I am so sorry, I should never have kissed you, I should never have promised you anything... I am such a fool,” he murmured as he cried his heart out, “but I was in love,” he whispered. Sitting up again, he looked up at Fingon’s emotionless face; the only indication that the elf was actually alive was the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. “I cannot visit you again for some time,” he whispered. “I have a family now, and you...” he croaked on his own words and a sob tore his throat. And tears came once more. “You will be sent where I cannot go, oh Findekàno, please smile.. Just once, just for me,” but nothing happened.

Maedhros heard voices and knew that Ireth had come; he could hear her, Turgon and Erestor walking down the pebbled path towards where he and Fingon sat. “Out of time, again,” he said with a little smile. “Father time seems to haunt our steps.” Kissing two fingers, he placed them tenderly on Fingon’s lips, before he stood and wiped his tears in his sleeve. Looking up over Fingon’s shoulder, he saw the trio walking down the path. Ireth waved at him while Turgon carried Erestor.

Reaching Maedhros and Fingon, Ireth let out a started yelp, seeing the sorry state of her cousin. “By Eru!” she looked to Turgon who nodded. “He arrived this way. Fëanor apparently had no use for a falconer who drools on himself.” The words carried such venom that Maedhros just stared at Fingon, not answering Turgon, in what he knew was the start of a argument if he gave in. “You are right, cousin Turgon,” Ireth said. “Your father is right sending him up shore, as it seems like hope itself has forsaken his poor soul.”

Turgon nodded. “If they cannot mend him there, then there are none that can besides the Valar themselves.”

Maedhros itched to scream at Turgon that he should have faith in his brother, but he did not. He just ground his teeth, and wiped away the new tears that had formed as he stood and stared at the elf that had been so vibrant, loving and alive the last time he had seen him. Those eyes had been full of sparkle and mischief; they were now but mirrors, blank and expressionless. Ireth shook his shoulder. “Come Maitimo, we should leave. Erestor is hungry, and we have a long ride home.”

Maedhros nodded and croaked, “Yes, you are right, you three go along and I shall follow. Let me say goodbye to my favourite cousin.”

“He cannot hear you,” Turgon said. “you are wasting your breath, cousin, I say take your son and your wife and return home, and leave my poor ill brother to his illness.” It was actually more of a command than anything else, and once more Maedhros just sighed and wrapped his arms around the limp elf, whispering “Fare well, Findekàno” before he let go of Fingon and took his grinning son from Turgon, following his wife up the pebbled path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 05 AN: This story is made for Marja, who asked for a Maedhros/Fingon fic, and that she shall have! – Ok, to resolve all trouble there could be around this kid of Maedhros’. Erefinwë is probably not correct or anything. Loosely (very loosely!) translated it means ‘lonely – finwë’ or something along with ‘he-who-stands-outside finwë.’ You will figure that out soon enough. (Thanks Uli, you’re a gem) this poor child’s mother’s name, Séretur, means ‘peaceful ruler’ – Ireth had quite high expectations for her son, I recon. And besides, that is what my own name means! *snicker* and for this chapter mind the HET warning! I did mean that seriously! – Oh yes, and since I kinda said that elves don’t fade, then I figured it would make sense with an asylum, but still, I am not calling it an asylum, and I think of a place of healing, I don’t mean something like Bedlam. *laughs*


	8. I fell into a burning ring of fire

_Love us a burning thing_   
_And it makes a fiery ring_   
_Bound by wild desire_   
_I fell into a ring of fire_

_I fell into a burning ring of fire_   
_I went down, down, down_   
_And the flames went higher_   
_And it burns, burns, burns_   
_The ring of fire._

_Johnny cash - Ring of fire._

____________________________________________

 

A year went by. Fingon had been sent to the healing facility up the coast, and Maglor had sent Amrod riding like a mad man through a thunderstorm to inform their brother, as the word was that Fingon had returned to Tirion, in good health. Upon hearing the news, Maedhros had been on his way out in the storm when Ireth had stopped him. She had made him stay, arguing that he very well knew that Erestor suffered from nightmares in thunderstorms, and that he woke, asking for his father. Maedhros knew this to be true, and with a sheepish expression had to send his brother home, saying he would be back in Tirion as soon as the storm cleared up.

When the storm cleared up, he was about to leave once more, and this time Ireth argued that she hated being left alone in this damned isolated house. Maedhros had said that she could just follow, but then she had had a fit, crying and cursing him for never devoting himself to his family. And so once more Maedhros had stayed in his house on the moor. Many were the times he had tried to leave, but Ireth had stopped him, until Maedhros himself slowly put it out of his mind, and carried on with his life.  
_______________________________________

Two years went by like this, until one day when Maedhros had set out on a hunting trip with his hounds, he saw three riders approach. Calming the dogs, he sat on his huge black horse and watched, shielding his eyes from the sun. He saw three dark-haired elves riding across the morning dew on the moor. His heart skipped a beat as he recognized Ecthelion, and then Turgon. His next thought was ‘Why on earth Turgon would be riding here?”, but then he saw it, Fingon! He wanted to run out there and pummel his cousin from his horse, hugging all air from his lungs, kissing him senseless. But he stood where he was, feeling ashamed that they would come here, and that he had not come to his cousin. And so he turned his horse and spurred it in the other direction, followed by his wolfhounds.

Ireth was thrilled to see her cousins and brother. Erestor seemed to recognize Turgon, but he was a little frightened of the other two elves, which saddened Ecthelion greatly. She invited them to stay for the night. She expected Maedhros home by dusk.

Riding across the dirt that made up the yard of his house, he noticed that three extra horses were still in the stable. He would have turned around again, had his hounds not started making noise at the prospect of food. He slid off his horse and took it to its warm stall; leaning against the giant beast, he caressed its flanks. “Eru give me strength” he whispered. The dogs started to make a commotion, and he growled “Silence! You shall be fed soon, you ungrateful beasts!”

“Does that include me, cousin?” a soft voice said. Maedhros looked up, seeing Fingon standing there in the dim light of the lantern. His annoyed disappeared like dew on a summer day, and his face lit up with a smile, although it didn’t quite reach his eyes, which still looked sorrowful. “Findekàno,” he breathed. Looking away from his cousin, he patted the horse once more, and stepped out of the stall. “No, that does not include you. I take it that Ireth fed you already?” It was meant as a jest, but no one laughed. “Maitimo,” Fingon said, “where were you?”

“I..I..” Maedhros said. Unable to meet his cousin’s sad eyes, he brushed past him and started to feed the hounds.

“Please answer me, cousin,” Fingon said, turning to look at Maedhros who stood hunched over the dogs’ food bowls. “I should never have come here; I should have listened to my brother when he said that I was no longer in your favour,” he mumbled.

“No, that is not it!” Maedhros said, turning to Fingon, blocking his way as the younger elf tried to leave the stables. He searched his cousin’s eyes. The last time he had seen him, they had been lifeless mirrors, and were now very much alive and swimming with tears. “You will always be my favourite cousin,” he offered lamely.

“Maedhros,” Fingon said, “please answer me this one question, and I shall leave you to your business.” Maedhros nodded slowly, thinking that he wanted to know if he believed that his brothers were really innocent and that he was a whore. But Fingon’s question took him by surprise. “Would you have come to the heather with me? Or was that a lie?”

Maedhros flinched; he had not really given his cousin much reason to believe his word. “I would,” he said softly. “I would have taken you there, and I would have...” he paused, not really wanting to talk about this, as it called upon some unwanted memories. But he read the need for an truthful answer in Fingon’s face, and Maedhros sighed. He took his cousin’s hand in his, and kissed the knuckles gently. “I would have let you claim me under the starlit sky.”

“How I wished things had been different, and...” Fingon whispered, closing his eyes at the feeling of Maedhros’ lips on his skin. “It seems like a decade ago, and everything changed.” Opening his eyes, he pulled his hand from his cousin’s grasp. “Ecthelion helped me mend,” he suddenly said. “He never strayed from my side while I was recovering.”

Nothing could have prepared Maedhros for this blow. “Ecthelion?” he whispered. “He is your lover?”

“We kiss,” Fingon stated, leaving Maedhros with only the option of nodding.

“Come,” Maedhros said, “we shall talk at another time. We must away to the house, for Ireth will think something is wrong if we stay here for too long.” Fingon nodded and walked after his cousin into the main house.  
__________________________________

After dinner they sat by the fire and Maedhros listened to Turgon impressing all with his deeds. Seeing Ireth out of the corner of his eye, he inwardly cursed. She seemed completely taken in by Turgon. And of all his cousins, liked Turgon the least, the bloated self-righteous ego of that elf! Almost as bad as uncle Finarfin’s. He had noticed Ecthelion and Fingon resting against each other, and a sad little smile crept over his face as he saw Ecthelion reaching for Fingon’s hand behind his back, obscured from Turgon’s view, entwining their fingers.  
That night the house echoed with Maedhros’ moans as he claimed his wife with a fury even she did not know he had. She never asked him why, she just relished the attention bestowed on her, as most nights her husband would not even sleep in their bed.

Fingon lay awake, looking at the shapes that the branches made on the ceiling in the moonlight. He could hear his cousin’s undoing, and fought the urge to cover his ears. Somehow this felt like a punishment. Fingon could hear that Ecthelion slept, and that Turgon tossed and turned in bed, unable to find his rest as well. For a moment he imagined being the one that received his cousin’s fire like that, being the one who made his voice rise in passion. But he was not, and really then Ecthelion’s gently given love was like balm to his soul. Finally giving in, Fingon got out of his bed silently. He opened the door and tip-toed down the corridor and downstairs.

After a while, where he had been seated on the patio outside the house looking at the night skies, he heard steps behind him. Turning, he saw Ecthelion coming over to sit next to him. Dressed only in a pair of pants, Ecthelion really was a vision of his own. “So here you are,” he said softly, wrapping an arm around his cousin, resting his head on Fingon’s shoulder. “This place really is beautiful,” he whispered as he looked out on the moor.

“Ecthelion,” Fingon whispered, “why did we come here?”

Smiling to himself, Ecthelion answered, “You wanted to go, and I followed, for you and for my sister.” Squeezing Fingon’s shoulder, Ecthelion whispered, “Do you want to go for a walk?”

Fingon shook his head. He turned his head and looked at Ecthelion. “Why did you come to me back then?”

“Why I travelled up coast?” Ecthelion whispered. “I told you before, because my heart bled for you.”

“That is not the truth, Ecthelion,” Fingon whispered, feeling Ecthelion stiffen. “Why did you stay? Why did you love me? I did nothing to deserve that.”

“I don’t know,” Ecthelion offered lamely. “You and I were friends once, and in my heart friendship was exchanged with something else. Don’t ask me when.”

Fingon turned in Ecthelion’s embrace so they faced each other. “Why haven’t you tried to bed me yet?” he whispered hotly.

“I” Ecthelion’s breath was caught in his throat as he saw the raw passion in Fingon’s eyes. “I was waiting for you,” he finally admitted. “Many are the nights where I brought myself pleasure with your name on my lips.”

“Here I am,” Fingon purred. He knew he should be frightened, that he should panic, that the darkness should claim his senses once more, but Ecthelion’s large passionate eyes sent sweet shivers down his spine. Slowly Fingon pushed Ecthelion down on his back. Hovering over his cousin, he smiled seductively. He should tremble, but somehow he knew exactly what to do. Leaning in, he kissed Ecthelion with all his need and passion, leaving his cousin panting when they broke the kiss. “Let me do this” he whispered against Ecthelion’s hot moist lips. “Close your eyes, my beautiful cousin.”

Ecthelion let out a shuddering breath as he closed his eyes. He understood why Fingon needed to be the one to take, and Ecthelion was more than willing to give. He would give his very soul if it were needed. Arching his back, he felt Fingon’s hands run over his skin, leaving trails of tingling in their wake. As he felt Fingon undo the string that held his sleeping pants up, he licked his lips, and a little sigh left his lips as he felt his painfully hard erection being kissed by the cold wind. He had often wondered what Fingon’s hands and lips would feel like, and now he knew.

Fingon spread his cousin’s legs, smiling at Ecthelion’s concentrated expression, his eyes still closed. The amount of trust that his cousin showed him warmed his heart. As he lowered his head to kiss the aching head of Ecthelion’s erection, he suddenly thought that they had nothing to use as lubricant, but then a wicked thought hit him, and he started to knead Ecthelion’s inner thighs as he brought him pleasure with his mouth.

The sensation was more than Ecthelion could ever have imagined, and he felt his passion build too fast. He wanted to warn his cousin, but all that came out from between his lips was a broken moan, as his world exploded and he spilled his essence. But as he felt Fingon’s erection press against his guardian muscle, he arched his back once more, grabbing a hold of his cousins hips. “Open your eyes,” Fingon whispered. And Ecthelion did, looking straight up at Fingon who hovered over him. “Are you sure?” Fingon whispered.

“Yes,” Ecthelion whispered back.

And so Fingon pushed inside, feeling sweat break from every pore in his skin as he was welcomed by tight velvet heat. Ecthelion wrapped his long legs around Fingon’s waist, and as Fingon leaned in to kiss his cousin, he noticed a figure; he did not need to look twice to know who was in the window. And with a sly smile he met his cousin’s eager lips, thrusting shallowly, until he felt Ecthelion’s legs tighten, and his thrust became deeper and fiercer, driving himself towards completion, there in the moonlight on his cousin Maedhros’ patio.  
_______________________________

As the Tirion party got ready to leave, Maedhros embraced a startled Ecthelion. “Come back soon, cousin,” he said with a smile.

Ecthelion nodded and smiled. “I promise.”

He looked over at Ireth who looked absolutely beaming, happy that her husband and brother finally seemed to bond. Maedhros clapped his cousin on his shoulder. “Come back in two months, then we will go hunting.”

Ecthelion’s smile widened. “I will.”

Embracing Fingon too, Maedhros said, “And you too, cousin, come hunt with us.”

Fingon nodded. “I shall be there, cousin.”

Turning, Maedhros just gave Turgon a handshake. “And you too, cousin Turgon.”

Turgon just nodded and said, “If I can make the time for a hunting party.”

Watching them leave, Ireth hooked her arm around Maedhros’ waist. Erestor looked up at his parents and said, “Papa, why do that big elf look at you like that?”

Maedhros took his son’s hand and smiled. “Maybe because I have parsley between my teeth?” he said, hearing Ireth chuckle.  
_______________________________

A month later a messenger arrived with a letter. It was from Ecthelion, and Maedhros knew he should not read it, as it was for Ireth’s eyes-only. But Ireth was not here; she had gone to Tirion and had brought Erestor along, to play with his cousin Glorfindel, the only son of Irimë. Sitting down in a comfortable chair, he broke the seal and unrolled the missive.

Dearest sister.  
I write to you first most because I miss you, but because I must decline the visit I promised your husband. It so happened that the weapons master of aunt Irimë’s house met an early end, and they now stand without any weapons master. Since uncle Fëanor said that he had more than capable hands in cousin Caranthir, I will be moving to aunt Irimë in this week to come. Their weaponry is in a terrible state, and I shall not have the time to hunt with cousin Maedhros. I spoke with cousin Fingon, he and Turgon will come. I had wished that cousin Fingon would stay in Tirion, but he argues that he used to hunt with cousin Maedhros all the time when he was younger, and I suspect he is right, and I should let him go without any bickering. You know I told you that when cousin Fingon mended, he called for your husband over and over. I still don’t know the answer to this, but you should stay alert. I still believe that the blood of Fëanor is tainted, and their deeds selfish. I won’t start another argument between us; all I am saying is guard your heart, my beloved sister. I worry for you. I will see you as soon as possible.  
Your Brother E.  
  
Maedhros sat and read the letter over and over. Did Ecthelion really think him a traitor? What for? Maedhros rolled the letter up again, heating the seal and making it stick; hoping that Ireth would not notice it had been open. His head reeled, never had he wanted to believe his father’s words, he had chosen to believe his father paranoid. Maybe he had been wrong, and his father right. Deep in troubled thoughts, he didn’t hear his family arrive before Erestor flung himself on his father’s lap. “Papa! Papa!” he sang, “look what uncle Maglor bought me!” He held out a wooden sword where the elvish word ‘valiant’ was burned into the wood. Maedhros smiled and kissed his son’s forehead. “That is a kingly gift, my son. Did you remember to thank your uncle properly?”   
  
“They invited him for dinner,” Maglor said as he stepped into the house.

“Brother!” Maedhros laughed. “I should have know you would sneak a meal.”

Maglor ruffled his brother’s hair. “If you lived closer I would come every night,” he said with a smile, knowing they had argued this before, and that Maedhros would not live in Tirion.

“Ireth my heart,” Maedhros said as evenly as he could, “A letter came for you.” He pointed to the dining table. She walked over to the table and picked up the parchment. Breaking the seal, she read it with an expressionless face. “My brother cannot join you for the hunt you have been planning,” she said softly. “He has been assigned a new post, and therefore he cannot leave Tirion for several months.”

“Ah, I’m sorry to hear that, I like your brother,” Maedhros said.

“Uncle Maglor?” Erestor said, “will you come see my pony? You promised!”

“That I did, little one,” Maglor said rising form his chair, shooting his brother a worried gaze. He knew that look on his brother’s face, he was brooding over something. But a moment later Maglor was being dragged off by Erestor.  
____________________________________________

Fingon and Turgon had arrived at Maedhros’ house. Maedhros and Ireth had greeted them, and Erestor was jumping up and down, because his papa had promised him he could come with them hunting, if he behaved, and he had. He had been exemplary, and done everything his parents had asked of him. And now he couldn't hide his excitement any longer. Having a cup of hot tea before they went out, Turgon said that he would stay with Lady Ireth; she should not be left alone in the house. Maedhros fumed, but he couldn't come up with an argument to not let Turgon stay behind. And in the end he seated his horse with Fingon and Erestor, surrounded by eager hounds. Ireth came to his side and pulled his sleeve. He leaned down and kissed her. “We will be back within four days,” he said with a smile. “You should perhaps journey with Turgon to Tirion and visit your mother and brother.” Ireth just smiled and kissed his lips gently. “Maybe we will.”

Maedhros frowned but kissed her one last time, before he turned to Erestor on his pony. “Let’s ride on, son,” he said, and spurred his horse into a fast trot across the moor, followed by Fingon, Erestor and the hounds.


	9. You are the reason I stay alive

_You can have my isolation..._

_You can have the hate that it brings_

_You can have my absence of faith..._

_You can have my everything_

 

_Nine inch nails - Closer_

______________________________________________________________

They had ventured far from the shore, and away from the moor, Maedhros in silence, and Fingon listening to Erestor's enthusiastic chatter about nothing and everything. But now the sun was about to set, and Fingon wondered about Maedhros' silent ride. "Cousin, we should stop. Your son is tired and we are all hungry," he called. He was relieved when he saw Maedhros stop his horse and turn in the saddle.

"Let us go to the ruin," Maedhros said, pointing to a building not far from them. "It looks like rain."

Fingon nodded and followed his cousin to the ruin.

Once there, they tied down the hounds so they would not wander off in the midst of the night. Erestor fell asleep the second he made impact with the ground, and this left only Maedhros and Fingon awake, looking everywhere but at each other from across the fire.

Maedhros pushed the fire with a stick, and sighed. "Maybe this was a bad idea," he said softly. He looked up at Fingon, who looked radiant in the orange half-light of the fire.

"He has your eyes," Fingon suddenly said, "just like I remember them." He smiled a little sadly. "And his mothers dimples," he added. "He will be a very handsome young man some day."

"Who, Erestor?" Maedhros said.

"Yes." Fingon chuckled lightly, he looked up and gazed directly into Maedhros' eyes. "So why is he an only child?" Fingon asked innocently.

"I don't want more children, I have a son, that is enough," Maedhros said, knowing it was a white lie, knowing how badly Ireth wanted a baby, something he was not willing to give her. One ill fated child had to be enough.

"Surely you don't mean that," Fingon said, resting his chin on his knees, still looking at his cousin.

"I do," Maedhros said, uncorking a wineskin, taking a sip before handing it to Fingon. "I am a terrible father, and an even worse husband, so there is no reason to add another poor soul to my misery," he said, spitting into the fire, making the flames crackle.

"Don't say that!" Fingon said, tilting his head. "You are a good father, and I am sure you are a excellent husband, too."

"If I were such a excellent husband," Maedhros said, looking lost and little, "then why do I yearn for you, and not my wife?" he asked.

This simple question had Fingon's cheeks afire. Looking away, Fingon mumbled, "I don't hold the answer to that question."

Maedhros stayed silent for a long time and then shook his head slowly. "Forgive me, I should not have said that. Please forget I spoke," he mumbled, getting up from the fire, keeping his face obscured under his hood which he pulled up as he rose. "Good night, cousin," he said flatly, before walking off into the dark.

Fingon sat and stared into the flames for a long time, and then looked at Erestor, and then at the flames again. And in the end he rose too, walking out in the dark to find his cousin. "Maitimo?" he called, "where are you?" He had not really needed to call, for not far from there he saw his cousin sitting cross-legged on a rock. Walking over there, he stood at Maedhros' side. Waiting for a moment, he took a deep breath and softly said, "If you knew for how long I have yearned to hear those words from you. And now when I hear them, I punish you. It seems strange, even to me. But Maitimo, my dearly beloved cousin, they are just too little and too late. I am truly sorry."

"I know," Maedhros said with a thick voice. "I was never there for you, I failed you in every way, and I now I cannot expect you to open your heart to me again. It is I who am sorry, my friend."

"I called for you for days when I woke," Fingon said with a disappearing voice. "But you weren't there, you didn't come. You had abandoned me, just like the rest. I love you cousin, but I will never forgive you for that."

Maedhros turned his head and looked down at his cousin. "If I lay down for you, right here, would you follow? Or leave me where I lay?" he asked softly. "You need not forgive me or love me, but I long for you so much that I am in pain. I need you, Findekàno."

Fingon let out a strained sigh that Maedhros could not decipher. Maedhros slid down from the rock. "I saw you," he whispered, "as you claimed Ecthelion." He fidgeted with his sleeve, looking anywhere but at his cousin. "And I..."

Fingon turned on his heels and started to run across the grass towards the ruin and his horse. Maedhros was in hot pursuit, and caught his cousin just as he was about to mount his horse "Cousin, Fingon... Wait!" Maedhros gasped, short of breath.

Fingon turned around and pushed Maedhros away. "You don't seem to understand that my heart belongs to Ecthelion. He was there for me when none others would come. Do you have any idea what that did to me?" As Maedhros reached for his cousin again, Fingon batted his hand away, raising his voice, yelling at his cousin, "Your brothers made sure I would never touch you again! Did you make that happen? Did you, Maedhros?" Fingon screamed, "Did you tell them to give the little whore what he wanted? Did you? Did you?"

Maedhros paled, and stepped backwards, "No, I never knew... I... but my brothers didn't..."

Fingon fumed, and reached for his sword in his saddle, with a swift move pointing the sharp point straight at Maedhros' chest. "You," he whispered dangerously low, "You treat me no better than they did." Raising his voice again he barked at his cousin, "At least they laughed as I soiled myself while someone was pounding inside me, with his penis or hand, I will never know. But you.. You are a snake around my heart, cousin, more poisonous than any of the foul deeds of your brethren. You come to me with tears and soft spoken words, but none the less it is the same you want, and still you will argue that you don't think me a whore!"

Maedhros was about to open his mouth to speak, but Fingon moved closer with the sword point, silencing his cousin when the point poked him in his chest. "Ecthelion gave himself selflessly and utterly, something you would never know how to do!"

"But..." Maedhros gasped, feeling the sword point dig into his skin, "I had no choice, you know that, cousin."

"You had a choice," Fingon stated flatly ,"and so do I, whether or not to slay you where you stand. The Valar knows you deserve it, but Erestor does not." Fingon removed the sword from Maedhros' chest and sheathed it in the saddle again. "I don't know you anymore Maedhros. I wonder if I ever did. Let us not pretend to be friends anymore." He rested his head against the side of the horse and took a deep breath, grinding his teeth.

Maedhros, on the other hand, just stood and watched as his cousin mounted his horse.

"Tell Erestor I am sorry, but that I had urgent business to take care of," Fingon said, spurring his horse, galloping out in the darkness.

Maedhros just stood there and looked after him, fighting the urge he had to pursue his cousin and tell him that he meant no harm, but he also knew how hollow those words would sound right now.

________________________________________

As Erestor and Maedhros returned to the house, they found Ireth welcoming them from the front door. "Where is cousin Fingon?" she asked, looking from Erestor to Maedhros.

"He had to leave," Erestor said with a boyish smile, as he slid from his pony.

Turgon came out from the house behind Ireth, and stopped, crossing his arms and looking accusingly at Maedhros. "He left?"

Maedhros nodded as he too slid from his horse. "He had to go back to Tirion, urgently." He gathered the reins of the horse, and looked up at Turgon before he started to walk towards the stable. "He should be home at your father's now, waiting for you to join him, cousin."

Turgon huffed in anger, but just turned and went into the house to gather his belongings.

Maedhros ignored it, and went to the stables with his horse, followed by Erestor.

"Papa?" Erestor said, "Why is uncle Turgon leaving so soon?"

"He too has urgent business to take care of, my star," Maedhros said with a soft voice, turning his head slightly and smiling at his son. "Don't worry about it. We are going to hang our prey to mature in the big tree, right?"

"Oh yes" Erestor said, beaming. He had looked forward to this the entire trip home.

______________________________________

Later that night, Erestor slept, and Maedhros was sitting at the dining table in the living room, going through some papers from the Fëanorian court. Apparently his father tried to make arrangements for a new horsemaster, one sent from Aqualondë, as a part of a friend program that Finwë had forced him to take part in. Maedhros had braided his hair into a single plait, and had not bothered to wear anything but pants after he had taken his bath. He heard footsteps and looked up. Ireth was standing at the other side of the table, looking at him in the dim light. She walked around the table without a word, and Maedhros followed her with his eyes. Ireth came to a halt at his side, and ran a finger over his chest, resting it at the little scab that was left from Fingon's sword.

"Hunting accident, my dear husband?" she whispered sweetly.

Maedhros just nodded and watched as Ireth walked away from his side again.

"Good night," she said as she left the room to walk upstairs.

"Night," Maedhros mumbled and returned to his work at hand.

Hours later he finished, and blew out the lights, stretching as he stood, and then he too walked upstairs to the bedroom. Truth be told, he was tired to the bone, but he had wanted to wait until he was sure that Ireth slept. He sat down on the bed in the darkness, and pulled off his pants before he with a blissful sigh laid down in the soft bed. Rolling over, he wrapped himself around his wife and closed his eyes. He was just about to fall asleep when he heard Ireth's soft voice.

"I am leaving you," she whispered. "It is over."

Maedhros groaned but didn't answer, he just withdrew his hands from his wife's body. He didn't really need to ask why, he knew why. They had not loved each other. True, they had lived in some strange truce. But there had never been love, his heart has always been closed off.

"For Turgon?" he whispered into the dark bedroom.

Ireth sits up and looked down at Maedhros. "Does that surprise you, husband mine?" she spat.

"He treats me like I am a rare jewel, like a princess! Not as a household servant." The female elf got up from the bed, and Maedhros propped himself up on his elbow, looking at her naked form in the moonshine. It was a shame really, that he could not find love for her. He cherished her greatly, but his heart didn't even hurt as she stood there in her glory, and told him he was a failure.

"You never noticed me, you never cared what I did or didn't do, as long as I would serve your perverted needs in bed," she hissed.

"You are not natural, Maedhros! No female should have to do what I have done for you, for years and years."

Maedhros cringed a little, but didn't remove his gaze from his wife who stood in the moonlight. "I know," he whispered, pulling the covers off and sitting up, reaching out for his pants on the floor. "I failed as a husband and a father, I don't need you to tell me that," he said softly, pulling up his pants. The next moment he felt Ireth pounce him, slamming him against the wall. Having the wind knocked out of him, he just blinked for a second, looking down at his wife who pinned him against the wall.

"I had prayed for just a shadow of emotion from you! I am leaving, Maedhros, Erestor and I am leaving this forsaken house where you have taken up your more or less voluntary exile. We are leaving to live with Turgon, and yet you do not as so much as ask me why, or try and stop me."

When Maedhros just looked at her, and did not answer, Ireth slapped him hard across the face. "Not even when I take your son will you spare me as much as a word," she screamed.

Suddenly Maedhros grabbed Ireth and turned them, slamming her hard against the wall, making her cry even harder. "Don't ever hit me," he hissed. Shaking her and slamming her against the wall several times, he roared, "What is it you want to hear? That I never loved you? I never did. I married you because my father dictated it so, like his father had dictated it to him, and as I will do when it is Erestor's time to leave home."

Ireth screamed in anger, and scratched Maedhros across his face, her long fingernails breaking the skin. "You will never have a say in Erestor's life, I will make sure of that!"

Maedhros wiped the blood away from his face with the back of his hand. The tall elf frowned and glared at his frail little wife, who stood pressed against the wall.

Maedhros suddenly slammed his hand into the wall next to her face and Ireth gasped. "You might be his mother," he growled, "but no matter how many useless princelings you bed, I will always be his father!"

Ireth squinted her eyes before she spit in Maedhros' face; he wiped the spit from his skin, just looking at her, without as much as blinking. Ireth raised her hand to slap him but let it fall again, instead she screamed to his face. "Foul blood runs in your veins, you live only for blood and war, never have you loved anyone other than your cursed sword!"

Maedhros spit back in her face and hissed, "You never bothered to know me, all you ever saw was the eldest son of Fëanor. Don't claim to know what my heart holds."

Ireth swatted Maedhros' arm away and walked past him. "I am taking Erestor with me," she stated.

"No you are not, you will not disgrace me and my house and take my son too," Maedhros said, wiping fresh blood mingled with spit from his face.

Ireth turned and looked coldly at Maedhros. "Is that your opinion, or your fathers?" she hissed.

"You damn harpy," Maedhros growled and stepped towards her. Ireth stepped backwards, ducking as Maedhros reached out for her.

They heard a voice in the door. "Mama?"

Maedhros stopped, frozen to the spot, looking away from Erestor in the door, only sensing that Ireth brushed past him and into the corridor to soothe their startled son.

"I am still his father," Maedhros whispered to himself in the darkness.


	10. Through the steady sweep of days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maglor comes to Maedhros with bad news, and as Maedhros arrives in Formenos, bad just turns to worse.

_This is my day_   
_And I wanted you to know_   
_This is my day_   
_And I’m gonna be okay_

_Blue Foundation – My day_

____________________________________

 

The house had seemed too silent; Maedhros had taken comfort in his everyday chores. This afternoon he was sitting outside having some hot tea with a little too much rum in it. Ireth and Erestor’s ghosts were still present. If Maedhros closed his eyes he would hear his wife come out the front door and chide him for sitting around doing nothing but getting drunk. He took a sip of his cup and grimaced, but she was not here.

As he rose to go inside and start up a fire, his hounds started to bark. He turned around and saw a lone rider in the horizon. Maedhros squinted his eyes to see who the rider was. It was Maglor, he could tell by the way the hair was loose. Any other elf would braid their hair according to their status, house or marriage, but not his brother, he wore it loose. A smile came to Maedhros’ lips, as he waved to the rider, and the rider waved back.

The fire had just started going as Maglor stepped into the house. “Maitimo,” he said, unclasping his cloak, letting it drop to the floor as he kept walking straight to his brother and wrapped his arms around him in a tight embrace. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“I’m not,” Maedhros whispered back, but holding his brother tight, needing the comfort.

Maglor pulled from the embrace and smiled ruefully. “Father is furious,” he said with a voice full of empathy, as he reached out and tucked in some fire red hair behind his elder brothers’ ear. “I don’t know who he wants to kill the most, you or Turgon.”

 

Maedhros sighed. “Turgon, I hope,” he said, opting for a little humour. Maglor just shook his head as he moved to seat himself in front of the fire. “What will you have me do, Maglor?” he finally whined, slumping down in a chair next to his brother.

“The way I see it, then it is your right to have Erestor here, he belongs to you, not her,” Maglor said.

“I don’t want him here, he is better off with Ireth and Turgon,” Maedhros said softly, “and his uncles.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Maglor said as he turned in his seat, gently taking Maedhros’ hands between his. “Come home with me, find yourself a new wife, you’ll see father will forgive you in time.”

“I don’t want a new wife, I don’t even want the one I have,” Maedhros sighed while he lowered his gaze to the floor.

“You can’t have what your heart desires, Maitimo. The rules of the game changed,” Maglor said squeezing his brothers hands, “but.. I carry a message from him nonetheless”.

Maedhros looked up with tears apparent in the corners of his eyes. “From Fingon?”

Maglor nodded. “He asked you to return to Tirion. Erestor has fallen ill and asks for you.”

Maedhros’ eyes widened in terror. “Ill? How?”

“I don’t know, I have not been allowed to see Erestor,” Maglor said with a little sad smile. “Please ride home with me; bring some clothes and we shall send someone to take care of your animals.”

Maedhros nodded slowly and rose from his seat.

________________________________________________

  
They had made the way back to Tirion in complete darkness. Maedhros had brought some clothes, his horse and his favourite hound, Ulf. It had been midnight as they arrived at Formenos. Maglor had grabbed his elder brothers’ arm when his courage had faltered, and dragged him inside. Curufin had been the only one wake, and he had greeted his eldest brother politely. Ulf followed his master closely to Maedhros’ old room, and a smile played on the red-haired elf’s lips as he saw it unchanged. As Maglor left him, he curled up on the padded mattress and was then joined by Ulf who also made himself comfortable. Maedhros buried his face in the dog’s neck and slowly drifted off to sleep.

Waking with a shock at daybreak by his door being flung open, Maedhros pushed Ulf from the bed, and the poor hound barked at the intruder. Maedhros silenced the dog, and looked at his younger brother’s startled face. “Amrod,” he grinned. “Don’t worry, he won’t hurt you.”

Amrod slowly walked to the dog with a nervous expression. “Father sent me to fetch you,” he said with a slight smile.

“Run and tell him I will be there in a moment,” Maedhros said softly as he reached for his boots. Amrod swiftly left the room, and Maedhros told Ulf to stay and guard his bed before he gathered the remains of his self-esteem and walked down to face his father.

The family was gathered around the table for breakfast. Everyone looked up as Maedhros walked in. Nerdanel rose and embraced her son. “I knew you would come home some day,” she whispered, “I thank the Valar that the day is today.”

“Mama,” Maedhros said softly kissing her forehead, before they both sat down next to Fëanor. Maedhros said nothing and couldn't meet his father’s eyes.

Maglor cleared his throat and asked, “Did you sleep well, Maedhros?”

Maedhros nodded and reached for some bread. He heard his father move next to him, and he winced, quickly withdrawing his hand, realising he had been a master for so long that he had forgotten that he lost his right to reach for food before the lord had filled his plate. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled and folded his hands in his lap.

“Now that we are all here,” Caranthir said in a sing-song voice, “we should go hunting.” The others around the table agreed as they watched Fëanor and Maedhros closely. Finally Fëanor tore his gaze from his eldest son and reached for the food, so they could all eat. Really then Maedhros had lost his appetite, but as Nerdanel placed a piece of buttered bread on his plate and whispered “eat,” he saw no way out of it, and so he ate it slowly.

As the breakfast ended the younger brothers left the table, and Fëanor leaned in and whispered, “walk with me” to Maedhros, who stood up instantly daring a glimpse of Maglor who quickly crossed his fingers in a gesture they had shared since they were children. “You too if you please Maglor” Fëanor said casually, smirking as he saw his second born pale.

Maedhros and Maglor followed their father to his study, sitting down. Maedhros felt dizzy and finally looked at his father. Neither of the brothers said a word, but waited for their father to speak. “This is most unfortunate,” Fëanor said as he looked out the window and away from his sons. “How could you allow such activities under your roof, Maedhros?” he said sternly.

Maedhros swallowed hard and fidgeted with his sleeve. “I didn’t know about it, sir”, he said in a barely audible voice.

“I find that hard to believe, son,” Fëanor said turning slowly around with his arms crossed over his chest. “Did neglect your husbandly duties that much?”

Maedhros nodded, embarrassed to speak of this with his father. “I might have” he said. Knowing all too well what his father was saying he added, “She found me highly unsatisfactory,” he said blushing.

Fëanor frowned and shook his head. “Did you ever bed the lass? Or did you frolic about with your househelp and young stable boys?”

Maedhros could have crept into a mousehole, but he nodded nonetheless “I did, I fathered Erefinwë,” he said looking back up at his father, with a harsh expression chiseled on his face. “And yes, I know that I am his father.”

“Good,” Fëanor said with a relieved nod, “then I shall send Caranthir and Curufin to pick up your son and bring him here. He should not be brought up in a Fingolfinian court, but be here with his father’s family.”

“Please,” Maedhros said, “let me pick him up myself, let my brothers accompany me if they must.”

Fëanor sighed but nodded, “This brings me back to the subject at hand, what are we going to do with this mess? Irimë needs a husband, little Glorfindel’s father perished at sea.” He turned his gaze from Maedhros to Maglor.

“My own aunt?” Maglor gasped, “Papa, surely you are jesting!”

“Do I look like I am being funny?” Fëanor said flatly.

“Cousin Ecthelion, sir!” Maedhros said. “That would give Findis the rise she needs from her daughters.. uhm.. misfortune, to marry off her son to someone as important as herself.”

“Her sister?” Maglor said wincing, appalled.

“Look at it this way Maglor, it’s either you, me or him” Maedhros said hotly.

Fëanor looked thoughtful for a moment. “That is brilliant, son.”

Maedhros looked up with a victorious little smile. “Thank you papa,” he said, looking over at Maglor who still looked shocked.

Fëanor sat down. “What am I going to do with that pair of you?” he sighed. “You are a bad husband, slave to your own libido and young tempting boys, and you, Maglor, you I am not even sure have a libido! – This must change! I have had an offer from a nice family from Sirion.” He looked from one son to the other. “Lindir, the young Teleri we have at our court, has a sister Helyanwë. I have made arrangements with her father that they will come here within this month and meet you.”

Maglor nodded stiffly. And Maedhros looked at his brother full of sympathy. He placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder in support, knowing how cruel their father’s words were without Fëanor knowing it, for Maglor had been the secret lover of Lindir for many years.

“This leaves you, Maedhros,” Fëanor said. “Only my father can release you from your bond, and I am sure he will refuse this,” he sighed, looking at Maglor. “Leave us,” he said to his second born.

Maglor nodded and quickly stood. “Yes papa,” he said, squeezing his brother’s shoulder as he left the room.

As the door shut behind Maglor, Fëanor looked at Maedhros with sorrow filled eyes. “You love your brothers,” he said softly, “and they love you, just as your mother and I do.” Maedhros’ eyes widened, he had never heard his father speak like this, and it frightened him to hear his father this serious and sad. “I praised the Valar the day you were born, my beautiful son, my first born and heir,” Fëanor said with a smile. “My heart swelled with love and pride, and my fantasy played with your possible future.”

Maedhros felt tears well in his eyes as he noticed a tear in his father’s eye. “Papa?” he whispered with a fearful voice.

“Maedhros, my son,” Fëanor said, and for the first time in years he reached for his firstborn’s hand. “I spoke with my father as lady Ireth and Erefinwë arrived in Tirion, and.. Maedhros you must understand that I do not have the final word as long as my father lives.” Fëanor couldn't look his son in his eyes. “I must send you back to your house in disgrace. You can bring your son if you wish.”

“Papa?... are you...” the words died on Maedhros’ lips.

“I have no choice but to disown you, my son,” Fëanor said. “I promise that I shall speak to my father, and plead for this not to be something irreversible, but I fear there is not much I can do, the scandal is out.” He shook his head. “Oh why didn’t you watch your wife closer, son?”

Maedhros nodded in understanding. “I will return to Forfirith as soon as I have picked up Erestor later this evening. I will bring you no more shame.” Maedhros made a move to stand, but Fëanor held on to him, and looked up at his son, who looked as if he were on the verge of a panic attack.

“Son, I will do everything I can, but I can’t let your personal failure affect my entire family,” Fëanor said as he released Maedhros’ hand.

“Ireth will be furious,” Maedhros said lamely. “What will I tell her? That her son for which she had such dreams, shall grow into a adult elf in solitude with nothing but the ghosts of the moor to keep him company?”

Fëanor sighed again and nodded. “Damn that wrench, you should not care what she thinks or doesn’t think, she made her bed, she can go lie in it!”

A smile ghosted across Maedhros’ lips as he nodded slowly. “I need a tutor.”

“I will assign one for you,” Fëanor said. “Now be gone and leave me to my sorrow.”

“Yes sir,” Maedhros said, turned and left his father’s study. He had to cross the hall of fire to get to his room. “Caranthir,” he said as he saw his younger brother sitting by the fire, waxing arrows.

Caranthir looked up and smiled. “Yes?”

“I need you, Curufin and Celegorm to come with me and fetch my son. Meet me in the courtyard as fast as you can,” Maedhros said with a bitter tone.

Caranthir nodded as he stood up to fetch their brothers. He turned and looked at Maedhros. “Brother, you look ill. Is something amiss?”

Maedhros shook his head and ruffled Caranthir’s hair. “No, I am just worried that Ireth will make a scene, and that Turgon will aim his sword at me.”

“He would die before his first stroke fell,” Caranthir said seriously while frowning.

“That he would brother, that he would,” Maedhros said as he left his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 05 AN: This story is made for Marja, who asked for a Maedhros/Fingon fic, and that she shall have! – Helyanwë = sky-bridge (rainbow) Lindir’s sister. Forfirith = season of fading. (Autumn) and the name of Maedhros’ house on the moor. – Here you go Michael, for you!


	11. With your feet in the air and your head on the ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter stage – Erestor’s handsome tutor. And the Fëanorians have a little shakedown in the Fingolfinian court.

_With your feet in the air and your head on the ground_   
_Try this trick and spin it, yeah_   
_Your head will collapse_   
_If there's nothing in it_   
_And you'll ask yourself_

_Where is my mind?_

  
_The Pixies – Where is my mind?_

________________________________________________________________________________

 

As he rode to Fingolfin’s house, a million thoughts raced through his head, but most of all he was worried that Erestor suffered from something terrible, and he hoped that he would get past Ireth and Turgon easily, not that he really thought this to be an actual option. The arrived to an empty courtyard, and tied their horses themselves before they all four started to walk up the stairs. Celegorm grabbed Maedhros’ arm. “I will go with you and find Erestor.” Maedhros just nodded and walked directly to where he knew Fingolfin’s study was.

Fingolfin looked up from a thick pile of papers as he saw Maedhros and three of his brothers arrive. “My brother’s children,” he said with a motherly tone, “what brings you here?” Fingolfin folded his hands on top of his book and awaited an answer.

Maedhros stepped forth and looked directly at his uncle. “Uncle, I have come for my son, who I am told is residing here.”

“True,” Fingolfin said, “But Lady Ireth has made specific requests regarding the company of her son, including that you or your brothers cannot see him. Surely you must know this, since your other brother Maglor tried and had to leave.”

“I know, uncle,” Maedhros said, “but with all due respect, Erefinwë is ‘my’ son, and the high king clearly stated that he is mine, and not Lady Ireth’s responsibility.”

“You are as conniving as your father,” Fingolfin mumbled. “If this is indeed the will of my father, then I will not oppose, but you will of course grant me some form of proof that what you are saying is true, right?”

“I hold no proof other than my word,” Maedhros said.

Fingolfin nodded. “Ah, see that might become a problem, young Maedhros. Since I know that your word is not worth much these days,” he smiled overbearingly. “You even seem to have been disowned by that rascal father of yours. Why then should I believe anything you say, and not just throw you out the gates like a commoner, for that is what you are.”

Maedhros slammed his fist down in his uncle’s desk. “Your son was the one who was the wrongdoer, not me!” he roared, “and Erestor is ‘my’ son, and you will hand him over now!”

Fingolfin just looked at his nephews with a haughty expression. “I don’t think so,” he said calmly.

“Erestor is mine by law, not you, Turgon or Lady Ireth can change that, and you know it!” Maedhros hissed, “Now where is my son?” When Fingolfin didn’t answer Maedhros turned around and said, “Curufin, Caranthir! Find him and bring him to the horses.” They both nodded and ran off with their swords close at hand. Maedhros turned to Fingolfin again.

Fingolfin just raised a brow and stared at Maedhros and Celegorm. “Maedhros,” he said, sounding very calculating, “if you take that child out of here, I will make sure that the trial for my son’s misfortune will be reopened.”

Maedhros frowned and Celegorm’s hand went to the hilt of his sword. “What do you mean, uncle?” Maedhros said.

“I mean that we all know that these poor stable boys at Formenos were not the culprits, you were. You damaged my youngest son beyond repair because of your.. your... unnatural urges.”

Maedhros stared at his uncle in disbelief. “How can you say that? I would never hurt Fingon,” he managed to mumble out between a clenched jaw.

“No? Really? Well I would differ with you on that matter; I say you would,” Fingolfin said with a little smirk. “And now that you are no longer royalty, I can make it happen, I can set a tribunal for you, and I will, young Maedhros, I will.”

“Threaten me again, and I will kill you,” Maedhros suddenly yelled as he cleared the desk with a quick sweep of his arm. He was about to say more when he heard Curufin call his name. “Brother, we need you up here!” Maedhros turned and said to Celegorm as he brushed past him, “Guard that mad elf, if he makes a move, kill him.” Celegorm nodded and got a firmer grip of his sword hilt as Maedhros ran as fast as he could towards his other brothers.

Reaching the first floor of the house he saw Caranthir standing with crossed swords with Turgon and he heard Lady Ireth scream from inside a room. He could hear feet running and figured it would be soldiers led by Fingon. He drew a shuttering breath and turned the corner and entered the room from where he could hear his wife. “Ireth,” he said coldly as he saw her on the bed, with her arms wrapped around Erestor.

“Are you out of your mind?” she yelled, “You are acting like a lunatic!”

“Silence, woman!” Maedhros barked and looked at his son’s wide feverish frightened eyes. “You are frightening our son.”

“You are!” she yelled. “You and your band of insane brothers!”

“Silence, I said,” he growled as he kneeled at the bed looking at Erestor. “Erestor,” he said softly, “I have come to take you home.”

Erestor nodded weakly. “Just don’t hurt mama,” he said with a meek voice.

Maedhros smiled. “I would never hurt your mama.” When Erestor still looked frightened, Maedhros reached out and touched his feverishly hot skin. “Ulf is downstairs with Celegorm,” he said softly, “and he has been crying since you left. He will be so happy to see you.”

“Celegorm or Ulf?” Erestor said with a little smile, knowing it was the dog his father talked about.

Maedhros smiled and held out both his arms. “Come Erestor, I will make sure your grandpapa’s doctor will take a look at you, and not this quack who apparently has been examining you.”

When Erestor made a move to rise from the bed, Ireth pushed him back and stood in between her son and husband. “You can’t have him, you let us leave, now stand by your decision!”

“The high king said he is mine by law, will you oppose him?” Maedhros said calmly.

“But you are taking away his future, think about it! If he stays here, he can become...” She didn’t finish her sentence before Maedhros cut in. “He can become the illegitimate son of Turgon, and keep his social status, and if he comes with me then he will be nobody, just Erestor.” Ireth fumed but didn’t move an inch. “Look at it this way Ireth, your childbearing days aren’t over, you can have many legitimate sons of Turgon’s, and you can still play princess.” Maedhros pushed Ireth not too gently to the side and scooped up his sick son from the bed. “Are you ready, son?” he said softly.

Erestor nodded a little timidly. “Can I kiss my mama?” he asked and Maedhros nodded, waiting for Ireth to come over and kiss her son. “I will come visit when I am well,” Erestor said. “Don’t cry, mama.”

Ireth looked at Maedhros with murder in her eyes. “I will find a way, Maedhros, I swear I will,” she hissed.

“You do that ,Ireth,” Maedhros said flatly as he turned and walked out the room with his son.

Coming down the stairs, leaving his brothers to keep Turgon at bay, Maedhros wondered where Fingon was; he would have heard the racket, but his cousin was nowhere in sight. Ulf was overjoyed to see Erestor as Maedhros had predicted and the huge hound who had just bared his teeth ready to kill someone, was the same huge hound that tossed himself on his back, whining like a puppy. “Dog! Behave!” Maedhros chuckled as he walked out the front doors and toward the horses.

_________________________________

  
As they came to the forked road where one went to the moor and the other towards Formenos, Maedhros stopped his horse. Caranthir, Celegorm and Curufin stopped too and looked at him. “Aren’t you coming?” Celegorm asked and gestured towards Formenos with a gloved hand.

“No,” Maedhros said shaking his head slowly, “We are going home to Forfirith.”

“But why?” Caranthir said. “Why would you want to stay in that gloomy house all alone?”

Maedhros smiled sadly. “If you must know, father told me I am not welcome at Formenos. I promised him that I would leave forever once I had a hold of my son. You helped me, and I am grateful, but I cannot come with you even if I wanted to.”

“So that was what uncle meant by commoner?” Celegorm said looking at his brothers and they nodded. He looked back at his eldest brother with the child asleep in the saddle in front of him. “Heir to the crown or not, you are still our brother,” he said with a smile.

“Yes,” Caranthir said, “and well if you cannot come to Formenos, then we can come to Forfirith, right?”

Maedhros shook his head. “I love you all, but you cannot come to my house. We were all born as pawns in a strange game of power, and it would be stupid of any of you to be associated with me right now. I am sure the wind will change and this is not forever.”

The three brothers nodded and turned their horses and slowly rode towards Formenos. They remained silent for the entire ride. And so did Maedhros as he rode over the moor with his son and the hound running beside the horse.

_________________________________

  
Erestor got well over the autumn, and as the first snow fell he was back to being his own self. The tutor was a handsome young elf who also tutored Irimë’s son Glorfindel. Confined within his house, Maedhros found himself looking forward to the tutor’s visit every other day, and after some months they had established some sort of frail friendship. Gil the tutor found himself lingering longer than he had to, having a drink with Maedhros, seeing what tricks Erestor had taught his puppy.

Sitting in the setting winter sun, Maedhros thought that Gil’s hair looked like gold on fire, and he inwardly chided himself for even thinking this, but too many lonely night with only ghosts of promises, had Maedhros admit that he was lonely in more than one way. “When will you return to Tirion this day?” he asked causally. Gil turned and looked at him with a little smile, and Maedhros hurried to add, “Erestor and I would love it if you stayed for dinner.”

“I have no plans for my evening,” Gil said, turning his head and gazing off into the sunset again.

Maedhros didn’t quite know how to react to this, so he just smiled and said “splendid.” He rose to get on with dinner, and found that his heart hammered hard in his chest seeing Gil sitting there completely at ease. He fleetingly thought of how long it had been since he had touched another elf in passion. It had been over a year. He looked down at his hands, shaking his head at his own silly thoughts as he entered the house. He shouldn’t even be thinking this. Gil was Erestor’s tutor and he had agreed to a dinner invitation, not an indecent proposal.

  
Erestor was delighted to have Gil for dinner and he chattered through the entire meal, much to Maedhros’ amusement. After dinner Maedhros and Gil sat down with coffee, and Erestor went to play with his puppy before bedtime. “Do you need anything in your pantry for winter? I don’t mind taking Erestor for a field trip to the market and buy what you might need,” Gil said carefully, watching Maedhros. He was not sure the former prince would take this well at all, as his temper was well known.

“That would be nice,” Maedhros said with a little smile. “I am sure he would love that, and we do need some flour and such.”

Gil leaned in to look directly at Maedhros. “Don’t you ever get lonely out here on the moor?”

Surprised by the blunt question, Maedhros frowned. “That is none of your business,” he answered acidly.

Gil nodded and withdrew to his chair again. “Your brother will be married to the Sirion lady within the next month.”

“I hope he will be happy,” Maedhros said, “though I doubt it.”

“Would you like to get out and go to his wedding?” Gil asked softly. “I can stay here with Erestor.”

Maedhros didn’t know what to say but found himself nodding. “Why?” he just asked. “Why would you do that for me?”

“Maybe I just like you,” Gil said, smiling a little as he put his coffee cup away. He leaned in to look directly at Maedhros again. “I have seen the way you look at me, I know you are lonely, all you have to do is ask.”

Maedhros almost choked on his coffee and dropped the cup on the floor between his feet. “Y-you are very handsome,” he finally croaked, “but you are Erestor's tutor.”

Gil just looked at Maedhros and smiled as he took one of the red haired elf’s trembling hands and kissed the clammy skin on the knuckles. “Just ask,” he whispered against the skin.

“Please stay the night,” Maedhros whispered, feeling like his world spun out of control as Gil nodded.

______________________________

  
Erestor was in bed and the house was silent, only the wind howling and a vague rumble of thunder was heard in a distance. “Gil?” Maedhros asked in a whisper as he felt the other elf’s hands on his shoulders, gently kneading his sore muscles. “Are you married?”

“I am,” Gil whispered back as he leaned in and bit the tip of Maedhros’ ear playfully. “Does it matter?”

“No,” Maedhros sighed as he closed his eyes, feeling Gil’s hands move inside his shirt and down his chest. It felt like pure bliss, and actually then Maedhros did not care if Gil were married to Nienna the Weeper at that moment. He only knew he wanted more of that soft touch. “It was just a question,” he breathed.  
  
Maedhros stood up as Gil’s hands left his skin, and with a faint smile he pulled off his shirt and pants until he stood naked in front of the fire, waiting for the blond elf to act. Gil walked up to him and ran his hands down Maedhros’ flanks. “You are beautiful,” he whispered as he leaned in and kissed Maedhros’ navel. He let go of the red haired elf to pull off his own clothes until he too stepped out of his pants, pulling Maedhros close he finally kissed him, feeling as the eldest son of Fëanor melted against him.

Lying down on the floor in front of the fire, Gil guided Maedhros around to his stomach, and without too much preparation he slowly but steadily penetrated the red haired elf, ignoring the sharp intake of breath he heard, but instantly rubbing the prostate, smiling as he heard the laboured hisses turn into lustful mews and pleas. Gil felt like he was on the top of the world, with his erection buried deep within the Fëanorian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 05 AN: This story is made for Marja, who asked for a Maedhros/Fingon fic, and that she shall have! – holy shit I wanted to snuff Fingolfin!


	12. Why do you still run when you could walk with me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maedhros attends Maglor’s wedding and learns some truths.

_Do you have a little time?_   
_Do you have a little time for me?_   
_If you should stop for a while_   
_You will find me standing by_   
_Over here at the side of your life_   
_I'd like to hold you still, remind you of all you've missed_   
_If you have a little time_   
_To have a little time that is._

_Dido – Do you have a little time?_

________________________________________________________________________________

 

-2 months later-

 

Gil had been gone the next morning, and it had been so every other day since that first time they had lain together. Maedhros understood why it had to be so, but he didn’t have to like it! He wished that the golden-haired teacher would stay; he had found some acceptance of his half existence with this prospect of a friend. He did enjoy their talks and occasional chess games, and he enjoyed Gil’s kisses even more, but he wanted more. Selfish, he knew it, but his heart still ached. Gil did not manage to numb it, his presence dulled it, but that was it.

Tonight Maedhros braided his hair in a difficult design, but he did not find his finest clothes. He chose to wear black and as he pulled his cloak around him and the hood up, his face was completely obscured in shadow, yet his vision was perfect. He would go to Maglor’s wedding. He had not received an invitation, but Gil had, and he had brought it to Maedhros giving him the information he needed. Erestor was sleeping in his bed, and Gil was downstairs reading a book.

Maedhros smiled as he came down the stairs and saw the corn blond elf sitting there in his own favourite chair. “Gil,” he said softly as he walked over to his lover and sat down on the armrest. “Will you ride home as I return? Or will you stay the night?” he asked with a little smile.

“I have to return home,” Gil said, offering Maedhros a faint smile. “My wife would worry if I don’t, you understand don’t you?”

Maedhros nodded slowly, sagging his shoulders. “Of course,” he said softly, even if he was unable to keep all his disappointment out of his voice. He pulled up his hood and leaned in to kiss Gil. “I shall be home soon,” he said before he turned and walked out the door. His heart was heavy as he walked out to the stables to fetch his horse. He should be sad for Maglor who had to take his place as father’s prodigy and the second born son, he who was supposed to restore honour to the house of Fëanor, after he himself had broken his wedding vow and disgraced them all.

He guided his big black horse out of the stables, and effortlessly slid on its back. “Take us to Formenos,” he whispered in its ear, and the horse neighed in reply before Maedhros rode it out over the moor and towards Tirion.

___________________________

Maglor scanned the crowd, and took a deep breath. The family was gathered, and he looked over at his father who played the host, laughing and joking with guests. Maglor knew this was no laughing matter, Fëanor had explained this to him in very vivid images, and he could still recall the sting of his father’s slap across his face when he had said that he refused to marry the sister of his beloved. And so in the end Fëanor had gotten it his way, Lindir had left Formenos and was not attending the wedding; word had it that his training period was over, and that he had returned to his family, and this night Lindir’s father had made excuses on his behalf, which Fëanor had taken with a smile, and had sent his best to poor Lindir who was feeling a bit under. But Helyanwë beamed, and Maglor had to admit she looked lovely in a pale blue dress and white flowers in her hair. She resembled a beautiful ice princess. The nervous smiles she sent him indicated that she was just as frightened as he was. They had never spoken and yet they were about to be wed. Maglor knew he was but a pawn in a political play, but this was the first time he had actually felt it for himself. He wondered how Maedhros had lived with this his entire life, and at this moment he understood why Maedhros had chosen to live at Forfirith.  
  
Maedhros arrived and heard the music play. He quietly slipped past the guards who were drunk by now, and with a smile he sent a thought to his father for the poor defence. He stealthily made his way around the falconry and further up the garden, until he could see the beautifully decorated area where the wedding was to take place. He leaned up against an apple tree and wrung his hands; he wanted to go up and kiss his brother and tell him that everything would be fine, but he couldn't, and he couldn't lie to Maglor either. Everything was not all right! He saw Nerdanel who talked to Findis. Findis! What if Ireth was here? He scanned the crowd but did not see her, but he saw Turgon. Maybe she had not been invited? But then he saw her; she stood next to her brother. A little sigh escaped Maedhros’ lips, because next to Ecthelion stood Fingon, beautiful as ever, and the years he had seen since they had kissed in the heather had been very kind to him. A crimson blush crept to his cheeks. He still felt ashamed of his behaviour on the hunt, but for some reason Fingon had him forget all sense and reason. He wondered for a moment what Ireth was doing here. It would have to be public that she lived with Turgon, and had come at Turgon’s invitation.

The ceremony began and Maedhros’ eyes were on Maglor. He looked pale and frightened, but so did the bride. Maedhros knew exactly how scary it was to be the one standing there, and just how successful had his own marriage been? He was so preoccupied with Maglor that he had not seen that Ecthelion elbowed Fingon as he had seen the hooded elf in the far back, and Fingon slid unnoticed through the crowd and stopped at Maedhros side. “Poor Maglor,” he whispered, smiling as Maedhros jerked in surprise.  
  
He turned his head and looked at Fingon. No word would come to his lips so he just nodded.

“I have some information for you. I would have come to Forfirith myself, had I thought I was welcome,” Fingon whispered. “Rumours have it that you are bedding Erestor's tutor.” Fingon turned his head and looked at Maedhros with a slightly accusing expression. “Is this true?”  
  
Maedhros wanted to tell Fingon the truth, wanted to tell him how lonely he was, and that Gil had been the only one to offer him company, but he just whispered “yes.”

“Don’t get too attached to him,” Fingon whispered back.  
  
Maedhros looked at his cousin with a completely calm expression, when his heart was beating so fast that it seemed to try and make its way out of his chest. “Excuse me?” he whispered.  
  
“He is paid by my brother.”  
  
Maedhros let out a shuddering breath, he had been betrayed again! He had told Gil everything, believing they were lovers, and then he would just gather his information and take it to Turgon. “Is..is.. is he even married?” he heard himself ask.  
  
Fingon shook his head. “No.” He turned and laid a hand on Maedhros’ shoulder. “I should hate you, I have every reason to,” he said softly, “but I don’t. I pity you. You are a coward, Maitimo, but you are not wicked.”  
  
“Fingon...” Maedhros said but found he had nothing more to say in his defence. He would never be able to tell Fingon that he was the one who had made sure that Ecthelion would be married off, and therefore shattered their love. He was indeed a coward, and that shamed him. “You are always welcome at Forfirith; you are my favourite cousin, remember?” he said trying to sound perky, but was sure he failed miserably.  
  
“You shouldn’t hide in the shadow, you should attend your brothers wedding,” Fingon said and pulled on Maedhros’ arm, but Maedhros stepped back. “Who are you afraid of?” Fingon asked. “You brothers will be thrilled to see you,” he said with a strange strangled tone.  
  
The ceremony ended, and Maedhros made an attempt to leave, but Fingon grabbed his arm. “Believe me, this is for Maglor,” he whispered. He forced his cousin to stand still. Ecthelion leaned in and whispered something to Maglor as he congratulated him. That had Maglor look up and directly at Fingon and Maedhros, a smile spread on his face, and he made his way through the guests, leaving his new wife to deal with all the well-wishers.  
  
He walked directly to where Maedhros and Fingon stood, and wrapped his arms around his elder brother. “You came,” he whispered.  
  
“I did,” Maedhros whispered back as he held his brother tight. “I wouldn’t have missed this for my life.”  
  
But Maglor’s strange behaviour had not gone by unnoticed, because Fëanor noticed, and suddenly so did other guests, including Ireth and Turgon. Turgon raged under his breath that Maedhros would have the nerve to show up at a family gathering here, when it was commonly known that he was no longer a part of this family. He shook Ireth off him, who pleaded for him to let it go, but he felt provoked by the former prince and his ego wouldn’t stand it, he was sure he came just to spite him and Ireth.  
  
Ireth ran after her lover as he forced his way to Maedhros and Maglor. “Maedhros,” he growled, “you are not welcome here.”  
  
Maedhros looked up at his cousin and then looked at Ireth. “I know,” Maedhros said. “But this is my brothers wedding.”  
  
“He is no longer your family, Maedhros, you know this... You father disowned you, and placed you in exile, and thus you can’t come here to a private party anymore than a commoner,” Ireth said.  
  
“This is Maglor’s wedding, why don’t you let him be the judge of that!” Maedhros spat back.

Maglor looked at Fingon, and then at Turgon and Ireth, and then over his shoulder at the elves approaching. “She is right,” Maglor said, “but I wish it were different.” Maglor looked at the ground, unable to look his brother in the eyes. “I’m sorry.”  
  
Maedhros hung his head too. “I understand,” he said, and turned around, brushing past Fingon on his way. He felt like crying. He had not felt his exile that much on the moor, but this was his family here, and none of them wished for his company. He fled out into the shadows, but hearing a voice behind him he turned to see Fingon running after him. “Wait!” he cried.  
  
Maedhros stopped, what else could he do?

Fingon finally caught up and grabbed his wrist. “When you come home you will find the house empty. Gil will have taken Erestor to Fingolfin’s house.” Fingon took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“I will kill him,” Maedhros growled.  
  
Fingon nodded. “I know where they are,” he said softly, “and since they all attend the party, getting drunk… I can take you.”  
  
Maedhros felt like shaking his cousin. He felt like kicking and screaming! He didn’t understand this at all! He was not sure who to trust. “You told me we shouldn’t pretend to be friends, so tell me why I should trust you this easily.”  
  
Fingon nodded again. “I know.” He looked up at Maedhros with wet eyes. “And we are not friends, nor family anymore.” He let go of Maedhros’ wrist. “But I cannot see that you are guilty of a crime that issues this much punishment”.  
  
Maedhros sighed. “I deserved that one.”  
  
“Maybe you do, maybe you don’t,” Fingon said, “but if you want your son, then we must make haste.”

Maedhros nodded and followed Fingon. He wondered if Fingon’s presence wouldn’t be missed at the party, or if he had some sort of agreement with Ecthelion or just whose plan this was. But he chose to trust his cousin.  
  
Maedhros got on his horse, and Fingon got up behind him. A little smile came to the eldest son of Fëanor’s lips. This reminded him of when they used to ride out together so many years ago.

____________________________________

  
Arriving at Fingolfin’s house, they found it empty just as Fingon had said. And Fingon grabbed his hand and guided him through the corridors and stairs until they stood in front of a large red door. “In there,” he said. When Maedhros was reluctant he turned to look at his cousin. “Trust me,” he said. “I know you are suspicious of why I am helping you, but maybe I am not helping you, but Erestor.”  
  
With shaking hands, Maedhros took the dagger that Fingon offered him. He closed his eyes and prayed to the Valar. “I believe you, you have never been untruthful,” he finally whispered. Fingon just watched as Maedhros pushed the big red door ajar and peeked inside, seeing Gil sitting in a chair reading the same book he had been reading when Maedhros had left the house. Maedhros stepped inside and closed the door.  
  
“Lord Turgon?” Gil said as he turned his head, paling as he saw Maedhros standing by his side. “Ma-Maedhros,” he stuttered.  
  
Maedhros was so furious that he just grabbed Gil and pulled him to his feet, looking at the corn-blond elf’s big frightened eyes. “You!” he growled, as he held the dagger against the other elf’s throat.  
  
“Pl-please,” Gil croaked, “don’t.”  
  
“Give me one good reason why I should not return your treason with death,” Maedhros whispered coldly.  
  
“Erestor is sleeping in that bed,” Gil whispered and weakly pointed to a big bed next to them.  
  
“Well I guess it is time he grew up, and learned that traitors come in all shapes and forms,” Maedhros sneered, putting more pressure on the dagger that started to draw blood. “May the Valar forgive both you and me,” he whispered as he slit Gil’s throat with one fluent move, silencing him forever. Letting the corpse slide to the floor, he stepped over the beginning of a pool of blood, and reached for the bundle in the bed. He pulled the blanket down and saw that Erestor was indeed still sleeping. He picked up his son and stepped over Gil’s lifeless body again and out into the corridor where Fingon stood.  
  
Fingon looked at Maedhros’ bloody hands. “This can cause a war, you know that don’t you?”  
  
Maedhros shook his head. “No, I don’t think that either Gil or I are that important to anyone.”  
  
Fingon nodded quickly. “Turgon hired him, but that was because father made him. It was not his idea that Gil should trick you thus,” Fingon said, closing the door to the dead elf as he walked Maedhros and Erestor down to the courtyard.  
  
“Ireth,” Maedhros hissed.  
  
Fingon nodded. “Yes, she was furious that she could not demand her son, and so she would frame you so you were put before a tribunal, and like that she would claim her son again.” Fingon sighed as he started to walk down the stairs from the main entrance. “You could not claim to have been at Maglor’s wedding. She laid the bait with Gil’s invitation, knowing you wouldn’t be able to resist being a fly on the wall, but if you had done as you had planned and as she had counted on, no one would have seen you… that was why I came over.” Fingon stopped as they reached Maedhros’ horse. “She would blame you that Erestor was seemingly gone, disappeared. But he would be here, locked up and hidden away until she had created so much suspicion around your person, so you would be imprisoned or executed for the murder of your son. They would all believe it, they all think you were the mastermind behind the falconry... Incident... And that you are truly insane.”   
  
“Maybe I am” Maedhros said as he carefully placed Erestor on the horse. “Maybe I am insane.” He turned and looked at his cousin. “But I had nothing to do with the falconry.”   
  
“I believe that now,” Fingon said. “Knowing how deep lady Ireth’s hate for me runs, you must have loved me once, and...” Fingon blushed as he fidgeted with his sleeve. “This is not the time for this,” he whispered.  
  
“No,” Maedhros said as he reached for his cousin with a bloodied hand, but Fingon stepped back. “Come to Forfirith some day, we will be waiting.” And with that he swung on his horse. “Thank you, cousin,” he said as the horse slowly started to move, starting their journey home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 05 AN: This story is made for Marja, who asked for a Maedhros/Fingon fic, and that she shall have! – actually I listened to sisters of mercy while writing this, but ‘this corrosion’ just didn’t work as a lyric quote.


	13. It's time to wield the blade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaed by; Chapter unbetaed! sorry!

_You have been dying since the day_   
_You were born_   
_You know it has all been planned_   
_The quartet of deliverance rides_   
_A sinner once a sinner twice_   
_No need for confession now_   
_Cause now you have got the fight of your life._

_Metallica – The four horsemen._

____________________________________________________________

 

**-Years later-**

Maglor had moved to Tirion with his wife just as Fëanor had wanted, and lived up to every bit of his responsibility, He had become a trained diplomat, had not created any scandals and seemed to be happy with his wife, even if they were not blessed with children.

Nothing more had come of Gil’s murder, Maedhros had learned from the servant girl of Maglor’s household who would ride to him with his groceries and whatever might be needed at Forfirith. She had carried a letter from Maglor that Fingon had informed him that as it had been noticed that Gil was dead in a pool of his own blood, Ireth had not been able to point a finger at Maedhros as she had wanted, Turgon had been visibly shaken and surprised, so Fingon was sure that he had not shared Lady Ireth’s plans. Gil’s death was written off as a suicide or a freak incident. No one really knew what had happened, and Fingon claimed he had felt ill and had gone home and slept, and if there had been some insane character there to murder Gil, then why hadn’t he been killed too? After all, his bedroom was located on the same corridor. And so this had ended unsolved.

Erestor had grown into a fine young elf, and he had no longer use for a tutor, Erestor would ride to Tirion himself to study with his uncle Maglor, and even if it was with a heavy heart, Maedhros let him do so. It was time that Erestor chose his own fate; he would even visit his mother. To occasionally play with his younger sister Idril, but he never got a real warm relationship with his mother, but Turgon seemed to have lost some of his righteousness with the years, had taken the young elf in, and showered him with presents, which sometimes would be expensive meat for him to share with his father.

Fëanor had forged his cursed gems and they had been taken by the Valar, needless to say he was furious! The only one who stood by his side was his sons and his father. And so Fëanor chose to rebuild his home somewhere else, and from the dirt raised a new Formenos, Nerdanel, Celegorm, Curufin, Caranthir, Amrod and Amras followed them, but Maglor decided to stay in Tirion, and Maedhros was never asked.

Disaster stroke and the time of the trees were over, just as suddenly as it had begun.

________________________________

Maedhros was not sure where all these years had gone, but he had watched his son become an adept fighter, rider, hunter and from the look of things also someone’s lover. He had been very surprised as Glorfindel had suddenly been at their door one day, he and Erestor had laughed and jested, but Maedhros knew that twinkle in their eyes, it was more than this. It made him strangely sad and happy in the same emotion, that day he had stood and watched as Erestor and Glorfindel had fooled about outside Forfirith, whacking each other with wooden sticks, trying to best each other. He suddenly had this strange foreboding feeling, he looked up at the sky and to his horror he saw ravens flock, ravens never flocked, this meant but one thing.. Death! And as the light on the sky seemed to flicker like a candle before it finally went out leaving the world wrapped in darkness.

“Look!” he called to the boys, and pointed up in the air, Erestor and Glorfindel looked up and they both paled, Erestor dropped his stick on the ground “papa? Is that an omen?”

Maedhros was about to answer him as they heard bells toll, “get your horses!”

Glorfindel and Erestor hurried to the stables, and so did Maedhros. Glorfindel looked at the tall red haired elf as he pulled the large black stallion out of the stables, “Cousin? Is it bad?”

Maedhros nodded “it must be” he said as he slung himself on the horse and started a furious ride towards Tirion.

_____________________________

As soon as they arrived they were met with confusion, Maedhros turned in the saddle and looked at Glorfindel “you should go and find Ecthelion” he said.

“Cousin.. I..” Glorfindel said as Erestor cut him off “Can Glorfindel stay here with us?” he tilted his head and sent his father a sweet smile.

Maedhros laughed softly and nodded “of course you may, but you must explain this to his guardian, not me”

Maedhros turned his horse and went to where Maglor lived, he saw his brother in the door about to get on his horse as well; he looked up and saw his brother. “Grandpapa died,” he just said with a deadly pale mask of an expression.

“Finwë?” Glorfindel gasped.

Maglor nodded “as he was at Formenos by east, we must hurry there”

Maedhros nodded and looked at Erestor, and then back at Maglor. “Sweet Valar” he whispered, as Maglor nodded and confirmed his worst fear “war”

_________________________

  
With no one to keep Finarfin, Fingolfin, Findis, Irimë and Fëanor in check things had gone from bad to worse, Fingolfin demanded that he was the true heir of Finwë and his favourite son, but no matter what they claimed they could not take away Fëanor’s claim to the throne as high king, and Fëanor now had supreme power.

As Maglor, Maedhros, Erestor and Glorfindel arrived they met Irimë, Fingolfin and Finarfin leaving Formenos in anger. Irimë spotted her son, and opened the door of her wagon, “my son” she called “come, we’re leaving”

Glorfindel frowned and looked at Erestor and then at his mother. “No mama” he finally said,

Maedhros had to admire the young elfs courage, and bitterly wished he had had this courage when he should have fought for his first love. Irimë did not appreciate her son’s obstinate behaviour and frowned “you will not shame me further” she spat

Erestor squirmed in his saddle “maybe you should...” he whispered

“No!” Glorfindel said with an appalled expression, “she does not own me because she birthed me” and with that he turned his horse and rode into the courtyard of Formenos by east.

______________________________

As they entered Formenos Maedhros got strange looks from the elves still around, until someone pummelled him from the side, almost knocked to the ground, looking he saw an elf almost as tall as him with emerald green eyes and freckles, and the same fiery red hair. “Amras!” he exclaimed and twirled his younger brother around. Putting Amras down he looked over by the colonnade, and a slimmer elf stood and hid behind a cascade of black hair. “Pitya?”

The darkhaired elf looked up and smiled timidly at his eldest brother. “Brother” he said, stepping out of the shadow.

Maedhros noticed the young elfs’ eyes red from crying. He held out his hand and buried his youngest brother in a hug “Don’t be afraid” he whispered.

“The world suddenly went dark, and then I found grandpapa.. We... hurried to fetch father in Tirion.. And” Amrod whimpered, “father is acting like a madman, this is bad Maitimo, I can feel it”

Maedhros held his youngest brother tight “yes you are right, it is bad, but we have each other, right?”

“Ecthelion told me that Fingolfin wants a war,” Amrod whispered.

“That pompous ass, he won’t have a war, I’m sure father wont take the bait that easily” Maedhros whispered “now take me to father”

Amrod nodded and walked in silence with his twin, Glorfindel, Erestor, Maglor and Maedhros to where Fëanor was.

_____________________

Maedhros took a deep breath as he walked into the throne room that had occupied his grandpapa for hours ago, and now everything was turned upside down. “Milord” Maedhros said as he and Maglor bowed before their father.

“Maedhros, Maglor” Fëanor said as he stood up and looked down at his eldest sons. “Took your time”

“Forgive me milord” Maedhros said still kneeling “I had not been told any news, and did not know anything was amiss until I saw the sky and heard the bell” Fëanor took a step down from the stairs that led to the throne, and Maedhros felt his palms get sweaty “I live far away milord, and we rode here as fast as we could, I assure you this”

“Arise children” Fëanor said and watched his sons slowly stand to their feet. “Maglor, go to your brothers and mother, they need you” Maglor scattered off leaving Maedhros with Fëanor. “You! My father left me no choice but to exile you, still allowed your unfaithful wife to attend your brothers wedding and every family gathering since that, and she calls that bastard child she had Turgon’s, and he calls it his daughter. I will say that this summons it up, does it not?”

“Indeed milord” Maedhros said.

“Then I shall say that you and her does no longer act like husband and wife, she does not frequently visit your home or your bed, does she?” Fëanor said.

“No milord” Maedhros answered.

“Then as the high king of the Noldo, I annul the marriage between you and Lady Ireth, leaving both you and her with the opportunity to marry another, or stay alone however you choose, you no longer hold any claim to each other” Fëanor took a step further down the stairs and stood in front of Maedhros now. “She can no longer call herself Princess Ireth,” he said softly.

Maedhros looked up at his father.. “Milord? Does that mean..”

“Yes son” Fëanor said before he wrapped his arms around his firstborn. “Welcome home”

Maedhros knew he should have kept his posture, but tears welled in his eyes as he felt his fathers arms around him, “thank you, papa” he whispered with a lump in his throat born of all the tears he had shed in his exile.  
  
“Where is my grandson?” Fëanor said softly, “Erefinwë?”   
  
Glorfindel elbowed Erestor who walked nervously towards his grandfather, “Milord” he said bowing to the king of the Noldo.  
  
Fëanor smiled and pulled from Maedhros, “Go to Nerdanel, she will be out of herself of joy” he said “and you too Glorfindel”  
  
Glorfindel was started hearing his name, and quickly bowed “yes milord, thank you” and then he hurried after the others.

_______________________________

Nerdanel had cried seeing her firstborn son again, but the reunion only lasted hours, before they were gathered in the throne room once more, Maedhros looked on his brothers, Caranthir and Curufin was positively glowing, but Amrod seemed like a wreck, Maglor looked indifferent, and so did Celegorm. Nerdanel was at the throne room as they arrived, crying and pulling her husband. Begging him on her knees to not go through with this, but this time Fëanor’s mind seemed made up. “Saddle up sons, we will go and demand back what is mine,” he bellowed, and everyone scattered out fetching their horses.

Erestor stood in the stables and looked at Glorfindel, who was not even looking at him. “Fin? Are you not coming?” he said softly. And when Glorfindel gently shook his head, Erestor grabbed his friend’s shoulders and tried to gain eye contact, but he couldn't. “Is something wrong?” he said.

Maedhros was coming back into the stables to hurry on Erestor but has he saw his son’s tears he decided not to, and for a second he just stood there as had he been cast into a time warp. “Erestor” he finally croaked. “We’re leaving”  
  
Erestor looked at his father and blushed “Yes sir” he mumbled and squeezed Glorfindel’s shoulder as he turned and grabbed the reins of his horse and walked out of the stables to join his family.  
  
As they rode to Tirion, Maedhros rode besides his sulking son. “Erestor” he said softly, “Why didn’t you kiss him?”  
  
Erestor looked at his father and blushed “papa!” he gasped seemingly offended, but his stupid grin broke through.  
  
“I could tell that you wanted to” Maedhros said with a smile.  
  
Erestor blushed even more and looked demurely away “Its that obvious?”  
  
“Aye” Maedhros laughed softly, just earning himself a stern glare from Caranthir. “You are not the first one to fall madly in love, it’s written all over your face when he is in the room”  
  
Erestor sighed, “I should have” he admitted softly “Kissed him I mean” he turned his troubled gaze to his father “There is no telling when I will see him again”  
  
Maedhros nodded sadly and reached over and rubbed his sons shoulder “No there ain’t” He turned his head and looked at the millions of lights that was now Tirion. “Keep what you had with him in your heart my son, that is all you have”  
  
“No I don’t believe you” Erestor suddenly said in a hushed voice, “there must be more to love”  
  
Maedhros didn’t answer him directly, but just smiled sadly. “You will see him again, I’m sure,” he said before he concentrated about his task again.

________________________________

The meeting went all wrong, everything was wrong, But as he heard his father call upon Eru, he knew it was irreversible damage. And as silence came, then a little voice in his head whispered ‘coward’ and then he stepped up beside his father and repeated then he too called upon illuvatar and swore his allegiance to his bloodlines claim. He closed his eyes as he heard Maglor do the same, and then what he believed was Caranthir, he winched hearing Amrod swear death and judgement to anyone who would stand between the Fëanorians and their righteous claim to the Silmarillions, but as he heard his son step up behind him and swear his allegiance too, Maedhros felt as his heart would break, but it also swelled with pride.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 05 AN: This story is made for Marja, who asked for a Maedhros/Fingon fic, and that she shall have! – well as Fëanor moves further from Tirion, then due to canon that is when he builds Formenos, but this is AU and then he builds a new Formenos, and well ‘new formenos’ or ‘formenos2’ was pretty lame, then I decided to call the new Formenos, ‘Formenos by East’. Please heed the AU warning!!


	14. Because you're mine, I walk the line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fingon deals with his fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter betaed by; Goodbye_sun

_I keep a close watch on this heart of mine_  
 _I keep my eyes wide open all the time_  
 _I keep the ends out for the tie that binds_  
 _Because you're mine, I walk the line_

_I find it very, very easy to be true_  
 _I find myself alone when each day is through_  
 _Yes, I'll admit that I'm a fool for you_  
 _Because you're mine, I walk the line_

_Johnny Cash – walk the line._

________________________________________________________________

 

**-Months later-**

Fëanor had sparked nothing less but a rebellion, and Maedhros was determined to make his father proud this once, he knew it was important that he of all people did not stumble, and so he threw himself into the fire of the discussions with the energy and spirit only the kings first born would have. And as Fëanor had decided that they should seek new lands and free themselves of the Valar’s power, that the elves of Tirion had the power to forge their own future, he had deceived them all. Maedhros wanted so bad to believe that his father was a skilled leader that he closed his eyes to every doubt anyone presented him with.

The night before the departure, Maedhros went to his chamber at Formenos by East, he had a very bad feeling of foreboding about all this, but he was in no position to argue. He was in a dark mood as he entered the room, only to find Erestor there with his face hidden in his hands; his shoulders trembled as he wept. Maedhros closed the door and kneeled before his son, “Why are you crying?” he asked softly as he ran his hand over his son’s soft black hair.

“I am frightened,” he whispered. “I am not supposed to be, I am the son of Maedhros, the first born of the high king, but I am terrified.” He refused to look at Maedhros even if he tried to make his son meet his gaze.

“And you should be,” Maedhros whispered, “But why are you here and not in the arms of Glorfindel?”

Erestor finally looked at him, “I thought you wanted me here,” he said.

“I do,” Maedhros said as he kissed his sons cheek, “But I am sure your lover misses you terribly, you have not seen him for long.”

“I know, but Papa...” Erestor whined, “What about you? You should not be alone.”

Maedhros would have laughed had Erestor's words not been so heartfelt, “I have my brothers,” He said with a little smile, “You don’t have to stay.”

“Papa?” Erestor said softly, “How come you never got yourself a wife after Mama left?” He tilted his head and looked curiously at his fathers baffled expression, “Did you never need consolation and comfort?”

“Honestly Erestor,” Maedhros said, his shoulders sagged as he inwardly decided that Erestor was old enough to know, “I did need it, but couldn't get it.” He reached up and caressed his sons cheek, “I was madly in love once as well, but that is a long time ago. Don’t make my mistake, you should hold on to what you found in Glorfindel and stop worrying about me so much.”

“But won't you be lonely if I leave?” Erestor asked again, looking worried.

Maedhros buried his son in a tight embrace, almost pulling him from the bed. “Don’t worry about me, go see your love,” he whispered. “I will prepare everything for you, just be back at dawn.”

Erestor was about to say something as he heard someone knock at the door, when it opened, it revealed Fingon in the poorly lit corridor. Stepping into the room he smiled at them both, “Erestor,” he said, and then bowing slightly to Maedhros, “My prince.”

Erestor watched his father as he lit up in a happy smile, but his eyes were filled with sorrow. “Uncle Fingon,” he replied, and slowly standing, kissed the top of his father’s hair and murmured, “I will be back at dawn.”

Maedhros looked up at his son, somehow thinking he would see a little child, but in front of him stood a handsome adult elf. “Dawn,” he said, watching Erestor slip out of the door, leaving him with Fingon.

“So you were allowed back?” Fingon said as he sat down in a chair, “The kings heir and all. From disgrace to princeling, quite the success story. A real tearjerker actually,” he said flatly.

Maedhros frowned, “Just what are you implying?”

“I am not implying anything,” Fingon said. “I am stating a fact.”

“So you think that I was the one to gain from my own grandfathers death?” Maedhros asked.

“Yes,” Fingon said. “But I don’t think that you made a pact with Melkor, if that is your question.”

“So what, you think my father did?” Maedhros said as he raised his voice. “My father loved Grandpapa, he would never ever hurt him!”

Fingon shook his head as he rose from the chair and walked past Maedhros towards the liquor cabinet. He made himself a drink and turned around to face Maedhros. With a haughty expression he said, “No, I am not implying that your father killed Grandpapa.” Maedhros stood up as Fingon continued, “But as much as I love my uncle, and as I owe my sword to defend the throne of the Noldor, then for the love of Eru, Maedhros! What is all that talk about new lands? I want to believe that he wants what’s best for us all, but I also know its complete idiocy. And so do ‘you’!” He said as he pointed at Maedhros with the hand that held the drink. “Don’t tell me you didn’t think the same.”

“My father wants us to discover new lands, and for the army to claim what is rightfully his,” Maedhros answered hotly, “There is nothing wrong with that! What is coming out of your mouth is drunken stupidity, fuelled by your paranoid father and brother.”

“And I thought I could talk to you,” Fingon said and shook his head, “That you for this one time in your life would offer me the truth.” He downed the drink, “But maybe I am depending a wee bit too much on childhood kisses and fleeting promises from long ago,” the last words Fingon spat out.

“I never lied to you,” Maedhros sneered back, “Never once have I deliberately tricked you or lied to you.” He crossed his arms over his chest, “I might had said things I regret, but they were truthful, they should just have remained unspoken.” Maedhros looked at Fingon who was now making himself another drink, found himself thinking that Erestor dealt better with his fears than Fingon did. “Why are we fighting cousin?” He finally said with a small genuine smile.

“I don’t know, I just see your pretty face and your obnoxious freckles and I feel like punching you,” Fingon said without blinking.

“So you came here to pick a fight?” Maedhros said as he frowned.

“I honestly don’t know why I came here,” Fingon whispered mostly to himself. “My father has my mother, Turgon has Ireth, and I...”

“Thought of me?” Maedhros said slightly acidly.

“Actually not,” Fingon said. “I thought I wanted to go see Ecthelion,” Fingon swayed slightly as he turned to make himself a new drink, “But he was unavailable, and then I came here thinking that you would be as always, hiding in darkness.”

“Cousin,” Maedhros said, “I don’t want to argue with you.” He snatched the drink from Fingon’s hand and downed it himself. “Go home and rest, you’re drunk.”

Fingon looked at his cousin and frowned. Closing his eyes he rested against the liquor cabinet and let his head fall back, his long black hair dancing across the glasses, and his neck bared. “Pray tell my princeling,” he said with a soft voice and a slight smile, “How did you imagine we should reach the shores of the new Promised Land?” He chuckled softly, it was a bitter hollow sound, “Grow wings and fly like a bird?”

Maedhros put down the glass on the table with a loud clang. “I am sure my father has a plan,” he said.

“Ah, of course! The high king has a plan,” Fingon laughed. “You are a fool Maitimo,” he said as he raised his head and looked at his cousin. “Did your exile bereft you of all wit? Or maybe you have always been this daft, and I was too enthralled to see.”

“Fingon, cousin...go home,” Maedhros said once more. He didn’t like this bitter angry side of Fingon, he knew that he was scared it was almost evident in the room as a tension you could touch, and Maedhros wondered what frightened his cousin thus.

Fingon ignored him and reached for the empty glass, Maedhros let him and he made a drink, this time also making one for Maedhros. “Ecthelion left,” he said with a sombre voice. “He smiled as he saw me,” He turned to face his cousin with a drunken man's courage and anger, “He knew I was there! That snake!”

Maedhros looked confused and took a sip of his drink, “Who smiled?” He asked politely.

Fingon grabbed Maedhros’ arm hard, “Your thrice damned brother, I saw them!” When Maedhros didn’t answer Fingon let go of his arm and looked down into his glass filled with clear liquid, “Curufin, he was...”

“I’m sorry,” Maedhros said and reached for Fingon.

“That is just not enough! You know what that scurvy ridden little dog did to me! And still all you have to say to me is ‘sorry’,” Fingon suddenly yelled.

Maedhros frowned, “Ecthelion and Curufin can make merry as they please.”

“Oh so you think so, do you? Were you laughing when your wife found other arms?” Fingon spat.

“Don’t,” Maedhros growled as he held up a hand in front of Fingon’s face to silence him.

“Don’t what?” Fingon slurred, “Tell you the truth?”

“What truth? Your truth?” Maedhros finally yelled. “If your truth is lashing out at me in your own bitterness and fright, then no, I don’t want the truth.”

“You!” Fingon cried tossing the glass aimed at Maedhros, but it hit the wall and splintered into a thousands shards. “You have no heart, you own no soul, you are indeed nothing but your fathers puppet.” He took a step to walk past Maedhros, but stopped and looked at his cousin, “And look where that got you.”

“Silence,” Maedhros growled.

“When Erestor leaves, and he will soon, you know that! Then you will be utterly alone Maitimo. Who will keep you company then?” Fingon laughed mirthlessly, “Your hounds?”

“So because Ecthelion found his joys elsewhere and you feel impotent, then you decided to come here and sling rude comments my way?” Maedhros said with a strangely calm voice, “I could have you hung for high treason.”

“Then why don’t you?” Fingon spat.

“Just leave,” Maedhros sighed as he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Get drunk somewhere else, Tirion has taverns for that.”

Fingon just looked at Maedhros before he suddenly lashed out and slapped his cousin with the back of his hand, “The only reason that I am going on this foolish quest is because of you!” he hissed.

Without thinking Maedhros turned around and lashed back, but with slightly more impact than drunken Fingon, “When are you going to let me be redeemed of my broken vow?” Maedhros roared.

“So you think it’s about that? You think that all this is because you never had your chance for a little intimacy?” Fingon said coldly as he spat blood on the floor. “Then lets get it over with,” he said flatly and with a determined move unclasped his cape and pulled his tunic over his head, he started to undo his belt buckle, when Maedhros grabbed his hands.

“Put your clothes back on Meleth,” he said.

Fingon looked up at his cousin with tears in his eyes. “You don’t want me any more?” he asked venomously.

Maedhros sighed and let go of Fingon. He slumped down on the bed, and looked up at his cousin, “I can’t win with you, can I?”

“How so?” Fingon said as he too sat down on the bed.

“When I told you I yearned for you, you told me I was an insensitive horny bugger, and when I tell you to keep your clothes on, I am an insensitive cold bastard,” Maedhros said softly. “When will you stop tormenting me?”

“When I stop hating you,” Fingon said softly. Raking a hand through his tussled hair. “You took my youth, you took my pride and my heart, so how can I not loathe you?”

“I did none of these things you accuse me off,” Maedhros said very surprised, turning his head looking at Fingon who looked like he was fighting tears.

“I hate you,” Fingon whimpered, hiding his face in his hands as he started weeping.

Slowly Maedhros put an arm around Fingon’s shoulders, “I never did anything to harm you, you’re my favourite cousin, remember?” he whispered trying to sound cheerful.

Suddenly Fingon looked up and smiled through his tears, “How I wished that you would have been mine,” he said with a thick voice.

Maedhros smiled, “And I wish that you could have been mine.” His face darkened and he rested his forehead against Fingon’s, “That was not my choice to make, had you been in my place you would have done the same.”

“Just once, before we march to certain death,” Fingon whispered as he tilted his head and pressed his lips against his cousins, and Maedhros quickly gave into the kiss as it grew deeper. His hand that had been resting on Fingon’s shoulder in a camaraderie way, moved down over his cousins soft skin, becoming a lovers touch. As they broke from the kiss, neither of them spoke, as if they both feared it would break this strange magical moment.

Fingon blushed as he looked down at his cousin; he seemed mesmerised by Maedhros’ lips, “I...” he whispered, but Maedhros shook his head and pulled Fingon down unto the bed with him. Somehow Maedhros managed to wiggle out of his tunic, pants and boots, Fingon was not sure how, but he knew that next to him lay Maedhros naked as the day he was born. “You really are the most beautiful of all,” he whispered, as he ran his hand down his cousin’s body, seeing his own sun-kissed skin in contrast to Maedhros milky white complexion. But Maedhros just hushed him and pulled him close, the first impact of their naked skin was almost electrical. He had dreamed it would be like this, but never dared to believe it.

Maedhros wrapped his arms around Fingon’s neck as his cousin rolled on top; his grey eyes twinkled with mischief and lust, and something Maedhros had never imagined he would see in those sad eyes. Reaching back over his head, he found what he was searching for, the grease he had put there for oiling his leather armour. It now found another purpose as he handed it to Fingon. And with that, he sent a silent plea, that now was the time when he would make good on his pledge, even if it had been long ago and far away when he promised it. He still remembered young Fingon’s demand. He could feel his cousin’s erection against his inner thigh, and even if Fingon’s lips kept his own busy, he still couldn't hold back a loud purr as he felt his cousin’s hand snake down between them to oil his member.

The pain had been sharper than he recalled, 'you have not had any intimate relations since the traitor' his mind told him. Fingon thinking that his cousin would have had many lovers, had just penetrated in one forceful thrust, but as he encountered resistance, he stilled. “Are you in pain?” he whispered, watching his cousin carefully. Maedhros smiled and gently ran his fingers down both sides of Fingon's flanks, “No,” he lied. Fingon studied his cousin carefully, but Maedhros just closed his eyes, and wrapped his long legs around Fingon's waist. Taking the invitation, Fingon started moving, it felt every bit as wonderful as he had thought it would. Not that he had ever thought he would be the one to claim his cousin, in his fantasies it had always been the other way around, but he found that he liked it better this way. This way he had Maedhros under him, writhing in pain and pleasure, and the little noises he made all sounded like the sweetest prayer in Fingon's ears.

Their lovemaking was slow and sweaty, and the longer they kept on, the heavier it got. Maedhros’ hands slipped from Fingon’s hips because of the perspiration, but he just flipped them around, straddling his cousin, riding Fingon as were he a mount. They were both exhausted but wouldn't stop, they both wanted this to go on forever, and that this feeling would never end, that they would always feel as complete as they did in that very moment. In the end Fingon rested his head against Maedhros collarbone and gasped, “By Eru, my body refuses to work any more.” And with a tired chuckle Maedhros wrapped his arms and legs around his lover and gently tilted them so they both were on the mattress, facing each other.

The early morning light found them thus, laying tangled in each other, utterly spent and exhausted, but even in sleep unwilling to let go of the other. Erestor returned at dawn with a silly grin on his face, opened the door to his fathers room thinking that he would be sitting in there drinking tea and tapping his foot impatiently. But the sight that met him he would never have been prepared for. With a smile he closed the door again before walking to the Hall of Fire to have breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 05 AN: This story is made for Marja, who asked for a Maedhros/Fingon fic, and that she shall have! – This chapter was goddamned HARD to write! Hope it worked out somewhat, not long to go now till I wrap this up – and I must make everyone aware that there is no real happy ending here! Please heed the AU warning!! 
> 
> Nov 24 -08: Its been over two years since I wrote this, and I had to remove a whole part of the smut, it was just stupid, and reeked of me not really wanting to write an N17 scene. So I redid it. So if the writing style seems to conflict, that is why.


	15. Today is the end of tomorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 05 AN: This story is made for Marja, who asked for a Maedhros/Fingon fic, and that she shall have! – Last chapter guys! I hope you enjoyed the story! 
> 
> Chapter betaed by; Goodbye_sun

_Now the day has come_   
_We are forsaken_   
_There's no time any more_   
_Life will pass us by_   
_We are forsaken_   
_We're the last of our kind_

_Within Temptation – Forsaken._

__________________________________________________

 

As Maedhros sat on his horse, he turned in his saddle to see if he could spot Fingon amongst the rally of elves around him, ready to follow their king to whatever end. He couldn't see him, and vaguely wondered if he had decided to not join them, maybe that was what he had been doing when he had come to Maedhros' bedroom last night, maybe he had been saying goodbye?

“Father?” Erestor said, trying his hardest to keep his mount still next to his fathers, the horse seemed as nervous as its rider. “Father?”

Maedhros turned in his seat and looked at Erestor. A sad smile spread on his freckled face. “You are...” He whispered, “All grown.” To his surprise this made him sad, and he fought with keeping his smile light. Touching his sons metal plated shoulder, he drew a deep breath. “Have you said farewell to your mother?” Erestor just nodded slowly. “Did she do your braids?” Maedhros moved his hand from Erestor's shoulder to grab one of his son's thin braids, adorned with golden thread. He turned it between his fingers and studied its design.

“Fingon made them,” Erestor admitted, and smiled nervously at his father.

“That makes sense,” Maedhros mumbled, “Do you know what they mean?” Erestor shook his head. “They are as easy to read as a book, that is what they are for, they aren't just pretty, son. Yours mean that you are royalty from the house of Fëanor, and the number of them indicates that you are a warrior.” Erestor looked at his own braid in between his fathers fingers till he was cross-eyed. “Why are yours different then?” he asked innocently. “Because I am a senior.”

“Maitimo.”

Maedhros turned away from Erestor and looked directly into Fingon's pale face with a husky grin plastered all over it. “Ready for your great adventure?”

“Findekáno,” Maedhros sighed and smiled warily, sharing direct eye contact with his cousin in one intimate moment before he willed himself to look away, “I am ready.”

“Erefinwë!” Fingon yelled, making Erestor turn about and look at Fingon. “Be brave, be valiant, and most of all, show them no mercy,” Fingon said.  
“Is that another way of saying 'stay alive'?” Erestor asked.

Fingon laughed merrily, “I suppose it is son, I suppose it is...”

~*~

On the second day of their travel towards Beleriand, Fëanor called his sons to his tent. Maedhros was last, glad to see his brothers, but worried because their father seemed troubled. “Sons,” Fëanor said, as Maedhros sat. “I have called you here tonight to discuss a pressing matter.” He picked up his sword from a table and turned it idly in his hands, almost as if he was trying to hypnotize himself with it. “You might have wondered how we are supposed to travel the great distance, and reach the other shore.”

The tent was silent, not even a cough. Truth was they all had wondered this.

“We are going to sail,” Fëanor said.

“But My lord, we do not have an armada, war has never come to these shores before,” Caranthir said with a timid voice.

“I know, son,” Fëanor said darkly, “That is why we are taking this route.” He sighed and finally stopped turning the sword in his hands, “Aqualondë has ships.”

Maglor frowned, “But My Lord, there aren't nearly enough for all.”

“I know that too, my son,” Fëanor said, “This is why I called you. Sons... you swore your allegiance to me, not to the throne of the Noldo, all I am asking is that you remember this, and do as I command of you.”

The tent was silent again, they all knew this to be true. “What do you ask of us, My lord?” Maedhros asked.

“I ask that you try and barter for those ships from the Teleri at Aqualondë,” Fëanor said, looking straight at his first born son, knowing what his next question would be. “And should that fail, we take them with force, we will reach the shore on the other side.”

“You planned this all along?” Amras gasped, and quickly added, “My lord.”

“It was an option,” Fëanor stated cryptically. “So will you do as I ask?”

Maedhros knew the others waited for him, so he stood up from his stool and placed his hand on his heart. “I will follow you, do your bidding, and aid your cause in whatever way I can. To whatever end, my king,” he said. The others followed his lead, standing from their chairs and placing their hands on their hearts too.

~*~

They had tried to barter, Maedhros had been most adamant, and offered the Teleri whatever they had wished in the return for their swanships. But the Teleri made it very clear that the Noldor had turned their backs on the Valar, and that they the Teleri had no intention of aiding them in any way. After three hours of discussing, yelling and discussing some more. Maedhros gave up and turned to Maglor who stood at his side. They exchanged a knowing glance, “Tell Papa we will take the ships as our own,” he had said. When the Teleri he had been discussing the matter with, heard and objected, Maedhros pushed him hard, so hard he fell and bumped his head on cobblestones. Curufin was the first to catch on, grabbing his brother Celegorm and running towards the swanships.

Chaos erupted, Maedhros had harboured a childish hope that the Teleri would be afraid of them, or just let them take their ships, this was far from the truth, but things went from bad to worse as he saw his brother Caranthir literally gut one of the Teleri elves who had tried to push him off the boat. All Maedhros worried about was where was Erestor? His son was lost somewhere in this carnage. “Look!” Amrod yelled and pointed at sky. It was Fingon who had arrived with his army, his banner waved in the air, and soon what had been a battle, became genocide. Blood was in his hair and in his eyes. He could smell burning wood and flesh, this surely was the worst of times. His heart clenched every time he swung his sword. But he did as he had sworn, he would follow his king's calling, and this was his king's wish.

When Maedhros finally did see Erestor, he was standing on the shore with Fingon, looking at Maedhros and his brothers, and the surviving part of Fëanor's battalion. Maglor wiped back his brother's blood cluttered hair, his braid had come undone, so Maglor pushed it behind his elder brothers ear. “You will see them soon,” he whispered. “Papa will surely send the ships back to take Fingon's army as well, he will need all the warriors he can have to make good of his demand to have his gems returned.”

Maedhros did not look away from the shore, but looked straight at his cousin and son. “Are you sure, brother?” he whispered.  
“Yes I am sure, Maitimo.”

“Makalaurë,” Maedhros sighed, resting his head on his brothers blood smeared shoulder plate. “I pray you are right.”

~*~

Maedhros had not believed he had heard his fathers order correctly as they had reached Losgar. “Are you daft son?” Fëanor screamed in his face.

“No my lord,” Maedhros mumbled, “But...” he looked desperately at the white ships that went up into flames. “My son,” he whispered helplessly, not able to meet his fathers eyes, just starring transfixed on the flames. “...and Fingon.” Finally he tore himself from the flames, and looked at his father, fisting his hands so hard he drew blood from where his fingernails dug into the flesh. “My lord, you cannot abandon them, this is wrong!”

“I would still my tongue, son,” Fëanor warned.

“Have you gone mad Papa?!” Maedhros cried. “You left your own grandson on the shores of Valinor!”

“Silence!” Fëanor roared, slapping Maedhros so hard, his lip cracked, and for the first time that day, the blood in Maedhros' mouth was his own.

“I refuse to participate in this,” Maedhros sneered, turned his back on his father and siblings and literally fled into the hills. He heard Fëanor call him more than once, but he ignored it while making his way to the hill top. Once there he looked out across the black waters, seeing the white tower of Valinor, already he was homesick, he missed his house on the moor, and he missed his quiet life, he didn't miss the silence, he remembered how he had grieved his life, and wallowed in self pity for his poor choices. This, this was different, this was a new world order, and he could not stop it. Neither did he really want to, he welcomed change, but not one baptised in blood. How he wished that Erestor and Fingon would stand here with him. He could only imagine what went thought their minds at this moment.

Maglor had seen his brother, and left the others on the beach to find Maedhros in the hills. “I didn't know,” Maglor said softly, walking up on his brother who was still standing, staring at the shores of Valinor in the horizon.

“They can see the fire from the shore, I am sure,” Maedhros said.

“I suppose they can,” Maglor agreed, coming to stand next to his brother, gently wrapping an arm around his waist. “They will find another way here, I am sure.”

“You mean just like you were sure that Papa would send the ships back for them?” Maedhros whispered with spite. “He has gone mad Maglor, there is no new lands here for us, only blood, death and sorrow.”

“You don't know that Maitimo,” Maglor whispered, resting his head on his older brothers shoulder.

“Oh, I can smell it in the air. Can't you?” Maedhros said with a sigh, lifting a hand to stroke his brothers blood clad hair. “I shall welcome war, brother. I left all I care for behind on that shore. All I have left is you and our brothers, and we will all burn in fathers fire.”

“Look at me brother,” Maglor whispered urgently, turning Maedhros face towards his own so they looked each other dead in the eyes. “You will see them again, Cousin Fingon, and Erestor will find a way across, or do you really have such little faith in them?”

~*~

Fingon and Erestor stood and watched as the ships sailed off, and when they later saw the fire on the other shore, Erestor drew a deep shattering breath, trying his hardest not to cry, he was not a child, he was a warrior, his father had told him so just days earlier. And warriors did not cry. Fingon buried Erestor in a tight embrace. “I'm sorry Erestor,” he whispered.

“Findekáno.”

Fingon looked up from Erestor's shoulder, to see his father Fingolfin tower behind them. ”Father,” he said, squeezing Erestor one last time before letting go.

”Where is the King?” Fingolfin asked, his voice dripping with poison.

”He sailed, Father,” Fingon said with a sigh, ”And I do not think he will be sending the ships back for us.”

Fingolfin sighed and looked out over the sea, ”We cannot return,” he stated. ”You heard the Valar, we have brought this upon ourselves,” he whispered. ”Fëanor and his sons truly have bedazzled and cursed us all.”

Erestor fisted his hands, but stayed silent, calmed by Fingon's hand on his shoulder. ”We shall have to find some other means to cross the sea,” Erestor said his teeth gritted.

”Silence whelp!” Fingolfin roared, ”Your pedigree alone is enough that I should slay you where you stand.”

”Father!” Fingon cried, pushing the frustrated Erestor behind him. ”He is right, my Lord, there is more than one way to cross the sea, and you know this to be true.”

Fingolfin raised a brow, ”You know not what you ask of me, son.”

”Erefinwë and I shall cross alone if we must,” Fingon spat hotly.

Tenderness was in Fingolfin's smile as he shook his head. ”We shall cross, we shall see the new land. We will find the King and we will rid ourselves of this oath we have all sworn and from the blood on our hands,” he gestured out over the burning village of Aqualondë. Turning around to the elves standing at his side he said, ”We will march north, until we reach Helcaraxë, and thus cross to the other shore. Send the word, and get yourself ready.”

 

**The end.**

**Author's Note:**

> 05 AN: This story is made for Marja, who asked for a Maedhros/Fingon fic, and that she shall have! – to clear one thing up here, I am NOT trying to stay close to canon. It’s not AU, it’s just fan fiction. I messed about with all the nifty first age elves for the sheer fuck of it! Thanks to for her priceless help when I had my canon stuff upside down!
> 
> Extra note; before you read anything, id like to say that under great aggrivation from my side, i settled with words like man, girl, woman and boy, even if it 'is' elves we are talking about. i hate elvish words in fanfiction, and therefore decided against ellon and elleth, which i think sounds downright retarded. and well femaleelf, and young-female-elf and so on was just even worse. so boy and girl it is.. if you dont agree with me, then it will be really annoying reading this fic, i'm sorry. wait.. no im not 'grins'.. but i thought id warn.


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